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WHAT PETER AND NANCY SAW IN ECUADOR 




















PETER and NANCY 
in-> SOUTH AMERICA 


BY 


MILDRED HOUGHTON COMFORT 

n 

Author of Peter and Nancy in Europe 
and Happy Health Stories 



BECKLEY-CARDY COMPANY 

CHICAGO 



























DEDICATED TO 

The young friends of Jimmy and Nancy 

John Anna Jane 
Bob Ramona 
Russ Kathleen 

3^53 



Copyright, 1935, by 
BECKLEY-CARDY COMPANY 
All rights reserved 


Printed in the United States of America 


C Cl A 







79765 



CONTENTS 


PAGE 

A Long Start That Seemed Short. 9 

By Way of Panama 

The First Taste of the Tropics. 19 

Colombia, the Land of the Gentle Yes 

A Coast Where Strange Things Happen. 31 

From Colombia to Ecuador 

Two Great American Spirits of Ecuador. 40 

Mrs. Goding and Colonel John Harman 

Perpetual Spring on the Equator. 51 

Ecuador Means Equator 

“Horses Shod with Silver”. 60 

A Glimpse of the Real Peru 

From Coast to Clouds in Peru. 70 

From Sugar Cane to Ice and Snow 

Where the Sun is Tied. 80 

Among Peru’s Ancient Wonders 

A Town That Sells Bark. 90 

La Paz, Bolivia 

Gold Dishes, Silver Spoons, and Tin Cups. 98 

Bolivian Plateaus and Bolivian Andes 

A City That Climbs Uphill. 107 

Valparaiso, Chile 

The World’s Southernmost City. 117 

Punta Arenas, Chile 

A Pink White House in a City of Cheer. 125 

Buenos Aires, Argentina 


3 















4 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

The Wise Owls of the Pampas . 135 

The Argentine Cow Country 

“I See a Mountain” . 143 

Montevideo, Uruguay 

A Green Leaf with Silver Veins. 151 

Uruguay from the Air 

The River-Bounded Country. 159 

Inland to Paraguay 

A New Way to Drink Tea . 167 

Paraguay’s Famous Yerba Mate 

Greater Than Niagara. 178 

Iguassu Falls 

Santos Spells Coffee. 186 

In Southern Brazil 

A City of Dizzy Sidewalks. 194 

Rio de Janeiro, Brazil 

Three Short Stops on a Long Coast. 205 

The Guianas—French, British, and Dutch 

The Biggest Uncrowded Highway. 215 

The Amazon River 

The Magic City That Was Never Found . 224 

El Dorado—A Land of Promise 

“Little Venice” . 233 

A Trip into Venezuela 

A Short Finish That Seemed Long.244 

The Start for Home 
















LIST OF 

FULL-PAGE ILLUSTRATIONS 

PAGE 

What Peter and Nancy saw in Ecuador. . . .Frontispiece 

Covered sidewalk on business street, Colon. 14 

The fruit of the cacao looked like little squashes.... 24 

Whenever Peter and Nancy thought of Bogota, 

they thought of laden donkeys... 29 

A papaya tree laden with fruit.. 41 

The peasants were not only cheerful, they were 

industrious, too . 53 

Cathedral in Lima on the site of the original 

building erected by Pizarro. 67 

Peter and Nancy admired the purple bougainvillea. 112 

Enrique and his donkey. 115 

Buenos Aires, the Beautiful. 131 

A bombilla and gourd used in drinking yerba mate. 170 

The Christ of the Andes. 176 

The harbor of Rio de Janeiro. .. 195 

The ride to Sugar Loaf Mountain was made 

in queer trolley cars. 202 

La Cerda Tower, a unique public elevator in 

Bahia . 206 


5 













6 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 


PAGE 

A peddler with bananas and melons for the 

market, Para. 211 

Shelling Brazil nuts for shipment. 213 

Tapping a rubber tree in Brazil. 218 

“More vines, more trees, more palms!”. 221 

The land of rice and bananas—especially 

bananas! . 235 

Weaving a hammock, Venezuela. 238 









ABOUT THIS STORY 


C OME with Peter and Nancy to South Amer¬ 
ica ! There is adventure awaiting you in this 
land where the Incas once ate from gold dishes 
and where natives bartered diamonds and plat¬ 
inum for calico. Thirteen strangely different 
countries vie with each other to capture and hold 
your interest. 

With Peter and Nancy, enjoy a city of perpet¬ 
ual spring on the equator. Marvel at a waterfall 
greater than Niagara. Behold a beautiful harbor 
bordered with royal palms. Follow savages into 
jungles dense with interlaced vines and trees. 
Climb pure white mountains. Then from an air¬ 
plane gaze upon the highest lake in the world. 

Here are orchids growing on trees, and birds 
of red and gold flitting through blue-green for¬ 
ests. El Dorado was only a dream city, but these 
beauties of South America are real. 

South America is our closest neighboring con¬ 
tinent, To know her is to love her. If you will 
make this good-will tour with Peter and Nancy, 
you will return home with your hearts and minds 
full of happy memories. 


The Author 


■ 






































































































PETER AND NANCY IN 
SOUTH AMERICA 


A LONG START THAT SEEMED SHORT 

P ETER MacLAREN and his sister Nancy 
watched the lights of Sandy Hook fade away 
in the gentle darkness. New York City was al¬ 
ready the greater part of a day’s journey behind 
them. Ahead lay a much longer voyage before 
they would really set foot on South American soil. 
It was past midsummer. 

Peter, even more sturdy than when he had set 
sail for Europe, squared his shoulders, and his 
blue eyes sparkled with happy anticipation. His 
farm home in Minnesota would be waiting when 
he returned, waiting patiently like an old friend. 
Ahead lay adventure. 

“It's going to be different from anything we’ve 
seen, Nancy,” Peter declared, standing beside his 
sister at the rail. “One of Uncle Lee’s friends said 
that there are two South Americas.” 

“Two South Americas?” Nancy’s shining gray 
eyes challenged Peter’s. 

“Yes. Two South Americas,” Peter maintained. 
“One is the South America of the coast that every 
tourist knows. The other is the interior, and some 


9 



10 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


of it has never been visited by white men. I’m 
glad we're not tourists." 

“What are we if we're not tourists?" 

“We're—we're geographers! Uncle Lee says 
we are." 

“What's a geographer?" 

“A geographer is a person who studies seas and 
mountains, the lands and the climate. He learns 
about the peoples of different countries, too, and 
what they plant or mine or manufacture. Uncle 
Lee will have to know all those things to write his 
special articles for the newspapers. We're bound 
to learn a great deal. Here's Uncle Lee now." 

A tall, slim man in gray tweeds, with kindly, 
bronzed face, joined the two children at the rail. 
His eyes, blue as summer skies, were twinkling. 

“Well, we're on our way," he said, taking Peter 
and Nancy for a stroll around the deck. “You'll 
find it's quite the longest start you ever made, 
before our real journey is begun." 

And so it was. For a full week the small ship 
kept on its southward course. The two thousand 
miles from New York City to Colon on the Isthmus 
of Panama, that Peter and Nancy had traced on 
the blue waters of their map in school, now be¬ 
came real enough. The cold, bracing air the first 
day, made it a pleasure to play games on deck. 
It was while rushing along the deck that Peter ran 
plump into a tall young aviator, Jimmy Dustin. 
He was on his way to South America, and his mop 
of light-colored hair, his blue eyes and his firm 



A LONG START THAT SEEMED SHORT 


11 


chin made Peter think of Lindbergh. Jimmy 
Dustin was very friendly and made a good com¬ 
panion on the trip. 

Toward evening of the second day the air 
grew warmer. 

“Maybe we're nearer the equator," offered 
Nancy. 

“You'd think the equator was a stove!" Peter 
laughed. 

“The equator is farther south," Uncle Lee put 
in. “Now we're crossing the Gulf Stream." 

“Oh!" said Peter. 

“Oh!" echoed Nancy. 

Both of them knew about the Gulf Stream, that 
mighty river in the Atlantic which is three thou¬ 
sand times as great in volume as the Mississippi 
River. Reading about the Gulf Stream in school 
was not nearly as pleasant as sailing in the Gulf 
Stream out here. 

“The Gulf Stream," said Uncle Lee, “is so much 
warmer than the ocean through which it flows that 
the current seems to warm it like a furnace." 

“Good idea," Peter suggested, “to stay in the 
Gulf Stream all the way and keep warm." 

“Of course we couldn't," Nancy answered lazily. 
“Remember what a time you had last summer in 
the Mississippi current? How you grumbled!" 

“But that was different," Uncle Lee said. “This 
pleasant Gulf Stream flows north at the rate of 
three to five miles an hour. We're traveling south 
and it's tough going against a current like that. 



12 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


We'll pass out of it along its eastern edge toward 
the Caribbean Sea." 

“I never before could remember just where the 
Caribbean Sea was," Peter remarked. “Seemed 
always in my mind to be in Asia." 

“Columbus made the same mistake," Jimmy 
Dustin consoled Peter. 

It was much colder outside the Gulf Stream; 
but gradually, as the ship made its way south¬ 
ward, the air grew balmy again. And again 
Peter and Nancy played on deck, this time with 
Jimmy. He told them strange things about South 
America; of people who ate from gold dishes, of 
a city on the equator where there was eternal 
spring, of waterfalls that were greater than Ni¬ 
agara. He told them of a city of perfumed streets, 
of a sparkling white mountain that housed a 
volcano, of hot springs and cold springs side by 
side. He described strange animals, brilliant 
birds, and orchids that grew in trees. Was Jimmy 
only telling tall tales, or could these things be 
true? Some facts they knew from their study of 
geography in school, but Jimmy's stories were full 
of strange details not found in their books. 

“Look! look!" cried Peter. 

He was gazing at a blue speck in the distance. 
When it finally took definite form, it proved to 
be the famous island of San Salvador. Here 
Columbus had landed jubilantly, thinking he had 
found an island off the coast of Asia. 

“San Salvador is one of the Bahama Islands," 



A LONG START THAT SEEMED SHORT 


13 


Uncle Lee explained. “It was an extremely rich 
find. Everything grows bountifully there, grains 
and fruits alike. Look long at these islands, 
youngsters. After leaving them, we’ll see no land 
for two days.” 

Nancy sighted the white lighthouse in the grove 
of palm trees that belonged to Bird Rock Island. 
Peter exclaimed over the rocky coast of Eastern 
Cuba, and Jimmy called them to the other side of 
the ship to view the purple mountains of Haiti. 
For hours the ship sailed between the two great 
islands and then went out over the blue waters 
of the Caribbean, whose location Peter was never 
again to forget. Gulls wheeled above the ship and 
in the sea flying fish darted in and out of the 
water. 

At last low mountains came into view and little 
green islands appeared as if by magic. Graceful 
coconut palms waved a welcome. 

“It’s Colon!” Nancy cried. “It’s Colon!” 

In her mind she saw the map showing a yel¬ 
low strip of land labeled the Isthmus of Panama. 
Before her was the real soil. 

“Remember, Peter,” she cried, “when we 
learned the definition of the Isthmus of Panama?” 

“Yes,” Peter replied, and recited soberly, “ ‘The 
Isthmus of Panama is a strip of land that con¬ 
nects North and South America and separates the 
Atlantic and Pacific Oceans’ Only now the great 
canal joins the oceans. We’re going through the 
canal. Isn’t this wonderful!” 




COVERED SIDEWALK ON BUSINESS STREET, COLON 













A LONG START THAT SEEMED SHORT 


15 


At the Atlantic or Caribbean end Peter and 
Nancy beheld the little City of Colon. They were 
not surprised when Uncle Lee explained that 
Colon was the Spanish word for Columbus. Colon 
was an ordinary-looking town; and Peter and 
Nancy were much more anxious to see Panama 
City, the capital of the Republic of Panama, at 
the farther end of the canal. 

Their boat was soon passing through the break¬ 
waters. Then it steamed south seven miles to the 
first lock of the Panama Canal. Most of the way 
it went through the channel which had been 
dredged in the shallow waters of Limon Bay. 

“Look at the engines on those tracks! Elec¬ 
tric !” Peter exclaimed. “They’re going to pull 
us into the lock!” 

Four powerful locomotives were quickly at¬ 
tached to the boat and began quietly to draw it 
into the lock. As soon as the gates were closed, 
the ship began to rise about three feet a minute. 
After the third lock had been passed, the boat 
steamed out into Gatun Lake. 

“Gatun Lake is eighty-five feet above the level 
of the Caribbean,” Uncle Lee told the excited chil¬ 
dren. “The locks are built in pairs. While west¬ 
bound ships are climbing up the water stairway, 
eastbound ships may be descending it.” 

Through Gatun Lake, which is twenty-four 
miles long, the ship needed no help. It wound 
south and east between hills that edged the valley 
of the Chagres River, then went through the fa- 



16 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 



Courtesy Grace Line 

THE GATUN LOCKS ARE BUILT IN PAIRS 

mous Culebra Cut, about eight miles long. Jimmy 
said that before the American engineers began 
work, the Chagres was only a mountain torrent. 
The engineers built the Gatun Dam to hold back 
the waters of the river, so what Peter and Nancy 
saw was a wide, placid lake. 

“Culebra means snake” Uncle Lee offered. 
“The Culebra Cut is now called the Gaillard Cut. 
Know why?” 

“Yes,” Peter answered promptly. “It's in honor 
of General Gaillard who directed the digging of 
the canal. Because the hill was of soft volcanic 
material it was hard to handle. Jimmy said that 
as soon as a hole was made, more rock and dirt 
would slide into it. It was almost like digging 







A LONG START THAT SEEMED SHORT 


17 



Ewing Galloway 

PALMS WAVE OVER A CLEAN, WELL-PAVED 
STREET IN PANAMA 

in water. Even after the canal was finished 
there were slides. Jimmy said the engineers 
took out a pile of dirt that would be as high as 
the Woolworth building, with a half-mile base.” 

“Jimmy knows what he is talking about,” 
agreed Uncle Lee. 

Just beyond the Gaillard Cut the ship was low¬ 
ered through Pedro Miguel Lock into the little 
Miraflores Lake. About a mile and a half farther 
on it sank to sea level in the two Miraflores Locks. 
Eight miles beyond the last lock the open Pacific 








18 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


came into view after a voyage of ten hours from 
the Caribbean. 

The harbor of Panama being shallow, the boat 
was forced to dock at Balboa, three miles away. 
Peter and Nancy spent the night at a hotel in 
Panama in order to look about the following morn¬ 
ing. The streets seemed narrow, but they were 
clean and well-paved. The houses were for the 
most part rather small. They were built of stone 
and wood, with wide verandas. The town looked 
healthful enough, and both Peter and Nancy knew 
that it was quite free of yellow fever and malaria 
because General Gorgas of the United States 
Army at one time had stamped out these diseases. 
There were so many buildings with galleries out 
over the sidewalks that it was lovely even in the 
sunlight. 

But in the minds of both Peter and Nancy were 
Jimmy’s stories of the lands to the south. In their 
happy anticipation of what was ahead, they could 
scarcely take time to enjoy the sights of Panama. 



THE FIRST TASTE OF THE TROPICS 


F ORTY-EIGHT hours from Panama! It was 
dark and rainy along the coast of Colombia. 
In the misty blackness the boat was striving to 
find its way into Colombia's largest and most im¬ 
portant port on the Pacific, Buenaventura. The 
atmosphere was hot and damp, almost steaming. 

“The rain's coming down harder!" Nancy ex¬ 
claimed. 

She peered into the darkness from the rail of 
the brightly lighted deck. Little rivulets of water 
dripped off the edge of her rain hat. 

“It would be strange if it weren't raining," 
Uncle Lee observed. “Sometimes it rains two hun¬ 
dred inches in a year in Buenaventura. Imagine 
that!" 

Nancy tried to look impressed. 

“I suppose that's a great deal," she remarked. 
“It certainly is, when the rainy regions in the 
United States average sixty inches some years," 
Peter put in. 

The port was entered at last and dawn broke 
suddenly like a lamp being lit. Peter could hardly 
keep back his disappointment when, after a pre¬ 
carious landing in small boats, the main part of 
the town proved to be only a few low buildings 
with red, corrugated iron roofs. The thatched 
huts which comprised the rest of the habitations 


19 


20 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 



Ewing Galloway 

THE MAIN STREET IN BUENAVENTURA, COLOMBIA 


seemed literally to be built in swamps. In some 
places dugout canoes made from a single log, were 
moored to the doors. Before many of the huts 
strutted game cocks and there seemed to be an 
array of pets, dogs and parrots especially. 

“So many black people !” Nancy exclaimed in 
amazement. “Oh, what cunning, kinky-headed 
babies! All in red calico slips!” 

One child was playing with a scarlet-breasted 
toucan, bright-eyed and tame, with a large, long 
bill. 

“I wonder if anything ever happens here,” 
Peter said. 

“It rains,” Uncle Lee explained. “And they load 








THE FIRST TASTE OF THE TROPICS 


21 



Ewing Galloway 

A SCARLET-BREASTED TOUCAN 

a number of things on board ships. Colombia is 
famous not only for platinum and emeralds but 
for petroleum, ivory nuts, and Panama hats.” 

“But if it rains all the time, what do visitors 
do for amusement?” Peter insisted. 

“See those railroad tracks?” 

“Yes.” 

“Well, that's the safest place for an excursion. 
You walk up and down the ties. For variety you 
jump every other tie,” said Uncle Lee. “Back of 
the town lies the jungle. This rain keeps things 
growing all right.” 




22 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


“Our boat took on a thousand bags of tagua 
nuts,” Peter declared. “The clerk said they were 
the same as ivory nuts and were used to make 
buttons.” 

Then, just to talk, Peter continued, “I never 
knew before that there were so many different 
kinds of palms. The clerk said those small, fat, 
bunchy palms were the ivory palms and the nuts 
grew in the prickly green balls at the top. Then 
there's the cabbage palm, a part of which you can 
eat. The sago palm supplies the sago which is used 
for puddings. Oh, I know my palms! Panama 
hats are certainly as common as palms. The clerk 
made notes of the cargo on a hat instead of on 
paper. I wonder what's back in that jungle and 
in the mountains beyond?” 

“Not so long ago,” said Uncle Lee, “Indians 
came down from those mountains with nuggets 
of platinum wrapped in leaves and sold them on 
scales a good grocer wouldn't use to weigh 
butter—sold them for calico and beads. And oc¬ 
casionally they brought something even more 
valuable, something as live green as the freshest, 
youngest jungle and sparkling like a brook in 
the blinding sunlight.” 

“Emeralds!” breathed Nancy. “Emeralds! 
Seems funny to be talking of emeralds in this little 
town, with its funny black population.” 

“Tomorrow you'll see modern farmers and 
ranches in their glory,” Peter put in. “We're go¬ 
ing up over the coast range only a short way by 



THE FIRST TASTE OF THE TROPICS 


23 


rail; aren’t we, Uncle? Then for the good old 
mules.” 

Everything happened just as Peter had guessed 
it would. There was the promised train ride and 
a long trip on mules with a good Indian guide. 
Toward evening the little party came into the 
Cauca River valley, said to be one of the most 
healthful and most beautiful on earth. All through 
the valley stretched vast plantations of coffee, 
sugar cane, and cacao. Peter and Nancy ex¬ 
claimed all day long at the great fields of bananas 
and large orange orchards. Lemons were plenti¬ 
ful, too, and oh, so juicy and refreshing! It was 
delightful to be in the tropics. 

At one plantation the owner himself joined the 
guide in taking Uncle Lee’s party over the estate. 
In the rather bare but pleasant, low-roofed house 
Nancy visited with the owner’s daughter, whose 
English was as halting as Nancy’s Spanish. Mostly 
they used the sign language. 

The cacao tree, Nancy learned, bore the seeds 
of which her chocolate at home was made. The 
trees reminded her of lilac bushes, only they were 
from fifteen to thirty feet high and very ragged 
and gnarled. The leaves were of a bright green 
color. The fruit grew close to the bark of the 
trunk and looked for all the world like little 
squashes or big, ripe cucumbers. Only the color 
was lemon with red stripes. 

Peter rode up importantly on a mule, a fine 
specimen of the cacao fruit in one hand, a knife 




Ewing Galloway 

THE FRUIT OF THE CACAO LOOKED LIKE LITTLE 
SQUASHES 





THE FIRST TASTE OF THE TROPICS 


25 


in the other. He cut the fruit open for Nancy to 
see. Inside the thick skin was a white pulp. The 
children counted about thirty dark brown seeds 
that looked somewhat like almonds. 

The plantation owner explained that after the 
ripe fruit is gathered, the seeds are washed out 
of the pulp and dried in the sun to be shipped 
to the factories. From the seed proper, he told 
them, pure chocolate is made, while from the seed 
hulls cocoa is ground. The process includes the 
extracting of oils. 

Never had Peter and Nancy seen more smil¬ 
ing faces or received more joyful greetings. They 
were not surprised when they learned that the 
country was called, “The Land of the Gentle Yes.” 
The people of the Cauca valley do not like to say 
no to any request—a people of mixed Spanish 
and Indian blood, they are gracious in their man¬ 
ners and simple in their tastes. It was with gen¬ 
uine regret that Uncle Lee’s party left in a small 
boat to go down the Cauca River until it flowed 
into the great Magdalena River. 

“I wish,” said Peter, “that I could go down to 
the mouth of the Magdalena and come all the way 
up from the sea.” 

“That would be interesting,” Uncle Lee ad¬ 
mitted, “but it would be less pleasant than some 
of our trips. It is so hot, and the reptiles there 
are not pleasant companions. This is lowland 
enough for me. Remind you of Venice?” 

Uncle Lee wiped the perspiration from his 



26 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


bronzed face and Nancy squirmed uncomfortably. 
Peter had taken off his hat. Many river steamers 
were passing, loaded with freight, but there were 
just as many flat cargo boats. Instead of Italian 
gondoliers, however, Peter and Nancy saw Ne¬ 
groes and Indians pushing the boats along with 
poles which they thrust into the river. 

Then they took a boat that traveled up the 
Magdalena River to Honda, the port from which 
Bogota, the capital, may be reached. Honda, the 
children learned, is by no means at the mouth of 
the Magdalena River. Indeed, no! Uncle Lee said 
the Magdalena River is hundreds of miles long 
and is sometimes called the internal highway of 
Colombia. 

As the boat made its way up the river from 
the sea the scenery grew more beautiful and ma¬ 
jestic. Honda was only a small river town, but its 
mountain background was lovely. Here the party 
secured donkeys and for two days, after leaving 
Honda, Peter, Nancy and Uncle Lee climbed the 
steep roads that led up, surprisingly enough, to 
a plain. Then Bogota came into view. 

After refreshing themselves at a comfortable 
hotel, the three travelers set out on foot to see the 
sights. 

“This air is like spring weather, but by eve¬ 
ning it will be so cool we’ll have to wear coats,” 
prophesied Uncle Lee. 

“Bogota!” Peter’s blue eyes shone. “Remember, 
Nancy, when we couldn’t even pronounce it! Now 



THE FIRST TASTE OF THE TROPICS 


27 


we're seeing it—a city of about 235,000 inhab¬ 
itants. And we're here—here in one of the high¬ 
est cities in the world. It's about 8,600 feet above 
sea level and it was near here that the Incas used 
to cast gold and jewels into a lake to please their 
gods." 

“Well, Nancy, you're in a Spanish-built town. 
Do you notice anything different?" asked Uncle 
Lee. 

“Indeed, I do!" Nancy's cheeks were flushed 
with excitement and delight. “Nearly every house 
has only one story. The houses are built close to 
the street, with iron bars over the windows. What 
bright colors they're painted! I always did like 
red-tiled roofs. O Uncle Lee, is that the Plaza 
Bolivar, that beautiful flowery place with all the 
tropical trees?" 

“You've guessed it." 

On one side of the beautiful plaza rose the Capi¬ 
tol or government building. On another side 
Nancy found stores with arcades before them, 
stores containing goods from all parts of the 
world. 

“Seems funny to see all the women dressed in 
black with black shawls over their heads," Peter 
remarked. “Most of the men are dressed like 
us, except the Indians. Not a bad costume—just 
a white shirt and trousers and a poncho worn 
over your shoulders—it's a blanket with a hole 
in it to stick your head through. Then just a 
straw hat for a sunshade." 



28 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


“I never, never saw so many donkeys in my 
life!” Nancy declared. “They’re so gentle and 
so patient. I like them.” 

During their short stay in Bogota Peter and 
Nancy saw scarcely any carts or wagons or vans. 
Every day the donkeys delivered bread and vege¬ 
tables and fruit from house to house. The plod¬ 
ding donkeys came in, too, from the country dis¬ 
tricts, patiently carrying great loads of products 
to be sold in the market place. Whenever Peter 
and Nancy thought of Bogota afterward, they 
thought of hundreds of donkeys carrying heavy 
loads. Donkeys alone could make the laborious 
journeys along narrow trails. Moreover, they 
were easy to care for and cheap to feed; and the 
poorest peasant could afford them. 

Back to Buenaventura again over the same 
route, a tiresome journey! The port left behind, 
they passed the lonely island of Gorgona, where 
the rain and waves seemed to be pounding cease¬ 
lessly. The boat was headed for the little port of 
Tumaco. 

“It was in Tumaco,” said an old traveler, “that 
visitors used to buy nuggets of platinum and re¬ 
duced heads.” 

“W-w-whose h-heads were they?” Peter stam¬ 
mered. 

“Enemies’ heads, at first,” the old traveler ex¬ 
plained. “The natives had a method of reducing 
them and preserving them, so that they retained 
much of their original shape. They removed the 




Underwood & Underwood 


WHENEVER PETER AND NANCY THOUGHT OF BOGOTA, 
THEY THOUGHT OF LADEN DONKEYS 












30 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


bony structure and inserted hot stones in the cav¬ 
ities, slowly drying and molding the features. 
Grotesque things but very lifelike! As time went 
on, these natives sometimes managed to get a 
head from within their own tribe—which was not 
so good.” 

Nancy, at the rail beside Peter, shivered. 

“And the platinum?” she inquired. 

“From the mountains,” the old traveler an¬ 
swered. “They exchanged it for calico and beads. 
Yes, sir. Exchanged it for calico and beads. 
You’ll find strange things in South America, 
youngsters.” 

Nancy’s wide gray eyes met Peter’s eyes 
soberly. “But how do people make a living in 
Tumaco?” Peter asked. “Reduced heads and plat¬ 
inum can’t be plentiful.” 

The old traveler laughed. 

“Young American, eh?” he asked. “See those 
boats out there? They’re loaded with everything 
but reduced heads and platinum, I imagine. There 
are thousands of bags of ivory nuts and cacao. 
Vanilla beans, too, and Panama hats, perhaps. 
And fruits like alligator pears for your tables 
back home. You asked a very sensible question, 
young man, a very businesslike question indeed !” 



A COAST WHERE STRANGE THINGS 
HAPPENED 


T HE boat on which Uncle Lee left Buena¬ 
ventura with Peter and Nancy chugged along 
the west coast of Colombia. “Going up the coast,” 
the natives said, but to Peter and Nancy it was 
going down the coast from Panama. Whichever 
way one looked at it, the general direction was 
south. 

At last they caught sight of a little river flow¬ 
ing in and out among small green islands. The 
jungle, they realized, came down to the very edge 
of the sandy white beach. Palm trees, now al¬ 
most as familiar as the elms back home, seemed 
to be standing demurely in line to wave a greet¬ 
ing. Tumaco! It had a tropical sound, like ripe 
coconuts dropping on soft ground. In the clearing 
rose huts mounted on high poles. Peter pointed 
dramatically. 

“Doorless doors! Windowless windows! Side¬ 
less walls !” he shouted. “But if my eyes do not 
deceive me, I see roofs. Thatched roofs !” 

A sailor sounded the depth often and Nancy 
declared she could feel the boat sliding over the 
mud. Coconut palms blew gracefully in the 
breeze. The children were told that on the shores 
were many crabs, great yellow crabs and small 
red and black ones. 


31 


32 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


It was a damp, hot little town. Uncle Lee helped 
Peter and Nancy into small boats that were man¬ 
aged skillfully by young boys. 

Everywhere on shore was damp, black soil that 
encouraged the growth of bananas and palm trees. 
The town was not made up entirely of thatched 
huts. There were many better built houses with 
overhanging balconies. 

Black men and women crowded into the streets 
to stare and to smile at the American party. 
Small, half-naked boys and tiny girls in red calico 
slips ran after Nancy, laughing and pointing at 
her knitted cap and suit, her stockings and low 
shoes. Her light hair and gray eyes seemed to 
delight the dark-skinned children, with their black 
eyes and thick, kinky hair. Their hair stood out 
in Hottentot fashion; and Nancy noticed, at least 
among the older women, that a comb was stuck 
up somewhere in their headdress to be used when¬ 
ever convenient. 

Here in Tumaco, they knew, tourists had once 
bought reduced heads and bartered calico for plat¬ 
inum. It did not seem possible! Such a peaceful 
little town, with such simple, kindly people! 
Everywhere one looked were bananas for the pick¬ 
ing, and orange trees loaded with golden fruit so 
beautifully ripe that it could be peeled and eaten 
like apples. But Uncle Lee insisted that the town 
was mo$t famous for its alligator pears, those 
dark green pears with the butter-rich pulp around 
the big plum-like stones. Peter and Nancy had 



A COAST WHERE STRANGE THINGS HAPPENED 33 



Ewing Galloway 

TUMACO WAS MOST FAMOUS FOR ITS ALLIGATOR 
PEARS 


never before seen alligator pears served except on 
state occasions. Back home they were a luxury. 

A senora to whom Uncle Lee had a letter of 
introduction invited them into her garden and 
served some of the pears with a little salt and 
lemon juice. Uncle Lee said they were very fine 
in flavor but Peter and Nancy enjoyed the rest 
of the tea more than the alligator pears. The little 
coconut cakes were crunchy and flavorous. 

The hostess herself wore a white dress and 
looked very elegant with high, jeweled combs in 
her black hair. On a bench lay a large panama 
hat to be worn in the sunlight. 





34 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 



courtesy Urace Line 

MAKING PANAMA HATS IN ECUADOR 


Never before had Nancy and Peter beheld such 
profusion of bloom. Waxy gardenias and camel¬ 
lias, large fluffy carnations and velvety roses vied 
with giant dahlias and crimson hibiscus. There 
were great plants of flor del Inca , covered with 
scarlet blossoms. There were white, waxy calla 
lilies and pale butterfly orchids beside vermilion 
flowering shrubs. And everywhere was the pink 
coral vine. Beyond the garden grew more orange 
trees, guavas, coconuts, and pineapples. Uncle 
Lee said that in all his travels these pineapples 
were the best he had ever tasted. 

A red and green parrot sat on the back of a 
chair and joined in the conversation. Neither 









A COAST WHERE STRANGE THINGS HAPPENED 35 


Nancy nor Peter understood the bird, but what 
he said made Uncle Lee smile. 

The hostess's house stood upon posts about ten 
feet from the ground. 

“She says it's quite necessary because of the 
rainy season," Uncle Lee explained. “Her grounds 
then look much like a lake, and were it not for 
the posts, the house might float away." 

It was with regret that the children said good- 
by. Once more the small steamer sailed the gentle 
Pacific until Esmeraldas in Ecuador came into 
view. Uncle Lee told Peter and Nancy the well 
known story of what had happened long, long ago 
at Esmeraldas. 

Pizarro, the Spanish conqueror, with his sword 
had drawn a line in the sand on the very beach 
that the ship was approaching. 

“Comrades," he had said, “on the south of this 
line lie hunger, hardship, and possibly death. On 
the north lie ease and salvation. On the south is 
Peru with its riches; on the north is Panama with 
its poverty. Choose which you will. For my part 
I go to the south. Who follows?" 

“And then," continued Uncle Lee, “thirteen 
men stepped across the line—into Ecuador!" 

Before them was another tropical town of 
thatched shanties and tile-roofed houses; back of 
these ran a crescent of hills. Around the ship flew 
black and white gulls, while pelicans flapped over¬ 
head. 

Boat after boat came out to welcome the 



36 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


steamer. The water was so rough that the little 
boats thumped hard against the sides of the bigger 
boat. These small boats took bags ashore to fill 
with coffee, cacao, and ivory nuts. 

“If you care to go ashore,” Uncle Lee sug¬ 
gested, “they’ll transfer you in that wooden cradle 
over there and dump you into a barge.” 

“I don’t believe I want to,” Nancy objected, as 
she saw the force with which the cradle and the 
barge came together. But the native Indians, with 
their poultry and household goods, stepped con¬ 
fidently into the cradle and were safely landed 
by the barge. 

“We really won’t have time to land,” Uncle Lee 
decided. “We are simply making the run of these 
little ports to get to Guayaquil. Then you will 
realize that you are in Ecuador.” 

Peter and Nancy had read in their geographies 
of the even west coast line of South America with 
its lack of harbors, and now they were beginning 
to realize how difficult it made landing. At every 
port the ship anchored far out in the sea and 
waited for lighters to come out to it. 

After Esmeraldas followed Bahia, Manta, Cayo, 
and Ballenita. On the barren, lonely hills of the 
coast near Ballenita, the children went ashore to 
view the famous stone seats. They were supported 
by carved figures of great creatures in a crouch¬ 
ing position. The circular stone seats with the 
carved figures of giant birds, lizards, and monkeys 
were all found within twenty miles of each other, 




A COAST WHERE STRANGE THINGS HAPPENED 37 


and nowhere else in the world, Uncle Lee informed 
the children. 

“Who carved them?” Peter asked. 

“And when did they do it?” Nancy inquired. 

“Who cut those great circular seats, no one 
knows! Who carved the animals and birds no 
one knows!” Uncle Lee looked sober. “When was 
it done? No one knows. But native Indians 
will tell you who carved these strange creatures.” 

“Who?” Peter and Nancy asked in one voice. 

“Giants. These are the seats of giants,” Uncle 
Lee explained with a twinkle in his bright blue 
eyes. “The giants were so huge that the tallest 
Indians could reach only to their knees. And for 
a steady diet these giants ate Indians, fifty a 
day!” 

Peter and Nancy laughed a little shakily. 

“Our next port which is Guayaquil, will be a 
city of perfumed streets,” said Uncle Lee to 
Nancy. 

“Perfumed streets! You sound like Jimmy 
Dustin, Uncle Lee,” Nancy accused. “How are 
the streets perfumed?” 

“Flowers, of course,” Peter put in. 

“You suppose wrong,” Uncle Lee declared. “Al¬ 
though there are flowers a-plenty. Wait and see.” 

The Guayas River proved to be a wide, almost 
majestic river, with great walls of mangroves 
growing along its banks. Blossoms like white 
aigrettes appeared here and there. Heat waves 
danced along the water front and up to the custom- 



38 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 



Ewing Galloway 

GREAT PATCHES OF CACAO BEANS WERE SPREAD 
IN THE SUN TO DRY 

house. Launches moved from dock to boat and 
from boat to dock. 

The moment that Nancy stepped into the 
streets of Guayaquil she smelled the peculiar fra¬ 
grance of which Uncle Lee had spoken. 

Spread in the sun to dry were great patches 
of cacao beans. They were of a brownish orange 
color; and with the hot sun of August upon them, 
they were delicately fragrant. The rains were 
not due until December, so it was perfectly safe 
to spread the cacao beans out to dry. Of course 
they would be gathered up in sacks in the eve¬ 
ning. Peter watched the natives stir and turn 
the cacao beans with their feet so that the beans 
would dry evenly. Nancy at once became inter- 



















A COAST WHERE STRANGE THINGS HAPPENED 39 


ested in the little mule-drawn trams that trav¬ 
ersed the length of the water front. She saw 
Uncle Lee squinting at the ships in the river, some 
with scarlet, black-topped funnels and some with 
yellow funnels. 

“They’ll take on quite a cargo here,” guessed 
Uncle Lee. “Ivory nuts, coffee, Panama hats, 
fruit, cotton, vanilla pods, and of course bags and 
bags of cacao beans!” 

The houses of white, .pale pink, and pale blue, 
with curtained or shuttered balconies jutting out 
over the sidewalks looked like stage scenery! The 
ground floors were given over to shops, while on 
the second floors were the homes. Everywhere 
there were arcades. Peter and Nancy were grate¬ 
ful for this protection from the hot sun. They 
said as much. 

“The arcades are valuable in the rainy season, 
too,” Uncle Lee remarked. “There’s quite as much 
rain then as there is sun now. Ah! A newspaper! 
But you two can’t read it! All the literature you 
buy here is in Spanish!” 



TWO GREAT AMERICAN SPIRITS OF 
ECUADOR 


T HE partitions in the rooms of the Spanish casa, 
or home, where Uncle Lee and the two chil¬ 
dren slept, did not extend to the ceiling. This al¬ 
lowed the free circulation of air all through the 
house. Nancy liked the clean, high walls, the big 
doors and windows enclosed with mosquito net¬ 
ting, and the slatted wooden shutters. She had 
heard tales of a sheep being driven through a 
guest’s room in order to attract enough fleas so 
that the guests could sleep. But there was no 
swarm of insects. There was only the sound of 
Uncle Lee's voice in the next room as he talked 
with a fellow guest. Once in awhile Peter inter¬ 
rupted. Nancy tried hard to keep awake on her 
comfortable bed surrounded with a mosquito-net. 

Listening patiently, she learned many facts she 
longed to know. She learned, to her astonishment, 
that Ecuador had a temperate as well as a tropical 
climate, due to its coastal and mountainous re¬ 
gions, even though the equator passed through it. 
She also learned that the population was about 
two million; and that, while the country had al¬ 
ways counted its wealth in fruits such as pine¬ 
apples, oranges, alligator pears, melons, bananas, 
mangoes, guavas, limes, papayas, peaches, apples, 
cherries, and strawberries, it was likewise proud 

40 



Ewing Galloway 

A PAPAYA TREE LADEN WITH FRUIT 




42 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


of its mines and of its oil fields, which were being 
developed. 

The policemen's whistles sounded at regular in¬ 
tervals as Nancy dozed and awakened. She was 
thinking of the breeze that came up in the after¬ 
noon, the dry-season breeze, called “the good 
chanduy” when she heard distinctly from the 
other room two names—Mrs. Goding and Colonel 
John Harman. American names! And yet they 
seemed to be connected in some very close way 
with Ecuador. Nancy tried very hard to keep 
awake. 

Morning came suddenly, like turning on lights 
at home. 

As soon as she was up Nancy asked Peter about 
the two Americans and he told her a marvelous, 
true story. As Peter talked, sitting beside her in 
the hammock which was swung up in the living 
room, Nancy seemed really to see modern Guaya¬ 
quil, rising from the pesthouse of South America, 
to the beautiful, clean little city of today. Peter 
had learned its history from Uncle Lee's friend. 
This friend impressed upon Peter the fact that 
one must know the history of a country in order 
to realize its geographical importance. The peo¬ 
ple who conquer and settle a country determine 
its boundaries, its customs, its development, and 
its relations with the rest of the world. 

About four hundred years ago, so the story ran, 
the Spanish conquerors decided that Quito must 
have a seaport. They sent Sebastian de Benal- 




TWO GREAT AMERICAN SPIRITS OF ECUADOR 43 


cazar with a small army to establish one. By this 
time the native Indians knew that the Spaniards 
were not gods, nor were their horses supernatural. 
Thus it happened that the would-be conqueror 
met such a fierce rebuff, that he went back over 
the Andes with his little army. He came again, 
however, and other Spaniards came down over the 
passes with him. From time to time little Guaya¬ 
quil was pillaged, sacked, and burned—not only 
by the Spanish but also by the British, the Dutch, 
and the French. All of these people coveted the 
rich Inca treasures of gold and emeralds, par¬ 
ticularly the gold. Guayaquil was built over many, 
many times. 

A new race sprang up, the new, true Ecua¬ 
dorian nation. The native Indians married among 
the Spanish, and their children became the citi¬ 
zens of Ecuador. They are now an independent 
people. 

But a greater enemy than any invader brought 
sorrow to Guayaquil. That enemy was yellow 
fever and other tropical diseases. They attacked 
the rich as well as the poor, the young as well as 
the old. So terrible were the diseases that many 
ships ceased to land at the little port. At times 
it looked as though all the people would die and 
the little town would cease to be. 

Nancy glanced out at the happy children play¬ 
ing in the sunshine of the street. In through the 
open windows came that faint perfume she was 
never to forget. 



44 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


“How did they get rid of the diseases ?” Nancy 
asked. “Did Mrs. Goding have anything to do 
with it?” 

“Yes, she did. She was very much loved, and 
she died of yellow fever,” Peter answered soberly. 

“Of yellow fever!” exclaimed Nancy. “How 
terrible!” Peter then told her this story. 

Mrs. Goding was the wife of the United States 
Consul General. She had been known by every¬ 
body as a gay, cheery person who sang about the 
house, and was kind to all who came for help. Her 
pet, a black and yellow cacique, a kind of oriole, 
used to steal her thimble and fly to the top of the 
partitions in her house. When this healthy, sun¬ 
shiny woman, whose laughter so often rang out, 
was taken by the dread yellow fever, even the 
government was aroused. In 1918 Mrs. Goding 
died on a Sunday night. The next morning the 
President of Ecuador telegraphed an invitation 
to experts of the Rockefeller Foundation of the 
United States to come to Ecuador and fight yellow 
fever. 

It was known that yellow fever was caused by 
a small, dark mosquito with white stripes on its 
legs and a white lyre-shaped figure on the back 
of its thorax. This mosquito was known as the 
stegomyia mosquito. Unlike the malaria mosquito, 
the yellow fever mosquito selects small rather than 
large bodies of water, in which to lay its eggs. It 
lays them in stale water, often choosing a pail, 
a broken bottle, or the eaves of a house. 



TWO GREAT AMERICAN SPIRITS OF ECUADOR 45 



Philadelphia Commercial Museum 

CHIMBORAZO COULD BE SEEN IN THE CLEAR AIR 

In a few months after the experts arrived, yel¬ 
low fever was so thoroughly wiped out that there 
were no more cases to study in Guayaquil. More 
ships came into the little port now that the great 
battle was won, the battle against yellow fever. 

Nancy said softly, “I’m so proud that it was 
Americans who helped to make Ecuador safe.” 
Then after a pause, “Peter, who was Colonel John 
Harman?” 

“You’ll find out when we go up over the ‘Devil’s 
Nose,’” Peter promised; and, although Nancy 
teased, Peter would say no more. 

Instead, he led her out to view Chimborazo, 





46 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


which could be seen now in the clear air. That 
famous volcanic mountain, Nancy learned, stood 
on the Andean plateau many miles inland. To 
Nancy it seemed very close. It was an exquisitely 
beautiful white mountain, as unreal as a mirage. 

Nancy had little idea of what the Guayaquil to 
Quito Railroad might be like. Uncle Lee had told 
her of the old trails of Indians, mules, and llamas 
who for years had crossed the Andes down to the 
coast. Sometimes they had crossed over swaying 
vine bridges above deep, rushing rivers. Some¬ 
times they had crossed desert land. Sometimes 
they had waded through jungle swamps and mire. 
Always, before they could get down to sea level, 
they had been forced to make their way along 
cliffs so narrow that muleteers had to run ahead 
shouting, “Mula! Pasa! Mula! Pasa!” 

When the rainy season began in December, no 
one tried to get through except letter carriers. 

A number of companies had attempted to build 
a railroad up over the Andes. They had all failed. 
Then Colonel John Harman of Virginia was 
brought to Ecuador to make an attempt. He was 
a young man who did not know the word failure. 
This American engineer had worked what Peter 
and Nancy knew to be near miracles. 

The MacLarens boarded the train at Duran. 
Along the tracks they first saw feathery bamboo, 
rich looking banana groves, and graceful palms. 
After crossing the Chan Chan River country, the 
vegetation changed. Cactus and maguey grew 




TWO GREAT AMERICAN SPIRITS OF ECUADOR 47 



Ewing Galloway 


FOUR THOUSAND FEET BELOW LAY GUAYAQUIL 

rank along with yellow trumpet blossoms here and 
there. Still farther along the tracks appeared a 
great deal of organ cactus. 

Peter and Nancy, who had seen the Rocky 
Mountains, were amazed at the great height of 
the Andes. 

“They seem to tower up and up into the very 
sky!” Nancy exclaimed. 

“They make all the other mountains we’ve seen 
look like hills,” Peter declared. 

The train halted for lunch at the little mountain 
town of Huigra. Four thousand feet below lay 
Guayaquil. The mountains all about were bare 
and dry, but the air was brilliantly clear. 

Ahead stood the “Devil’s Nose,” a large, high 
rock shaped like the nose of an arrogant, con¬ 
temptuous person. John Harman had run his 










48 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 



Philadelphia Commercial Museum 

THE “DEVIL’S NOSE” 


tracks along the left fork of the Chan Chan River, 
skirting the base of the Nose. 

Nancy held tightly to Peter's hand as she saw 
the zigzag of tracks above them. Suddenly the 
train reached the end of a stone ravine. 

“No going forward!" Peter exclaimed. “We’re 
hemmed in by perpendicular hills." 

The little train could not go forward; so it 
backed valiantly up a track, pushing up a steep 
grade cut out of a ledge of rock. It then climbed 
toward the bridge of the “Nose," slowly, very 
slowly. Then it rounded the bridge. On the other 
side there was another switch. Another stop! 




TWO GREAT AMERICAN SPIRITS OF ECUADOR 49 


Then the train went on up and up, the tracks 
crossing and recrossing the shining river. At the 
third arm of the great zigzag the engine went 
forward again, up over Palmira Pass! 

“Almost eleven thousand feet!” Uncle Lee ex¬ 
claimed, “in a distance of about forty-seven miles. 
And an American planned it all!” 

“No wonder they needed mules to do the work,” 
Peter exclaimed. “The best gasoline tractor in the 
world couldn’t make this grade.” 

“That’s what Harman decided,” agreed Uncle 
Lee. “With him it was 'no mules, no railroad.’ 
Well, we’re up.” 

Peter and Nancy looked at each other. Two 
shadowy figures seemed gently to emerge from the 
past to help them remember the little fan-shaped 
country of Ecuador, that only a few weeks ago 
had been but a place on a map. 

Uncle Lee broke in upon their reflections. 

“Had a message from that friend of yours, the 
flyer we left behind in Panama, you know.” Uncle 
Lee’s eyes twinkled, knowing that Peter and 
Nancy had not forgotten Jimmie Dustin. “He 
expects to meet us, he says, in the 'Vale of Para¬ 
dise.’ ” 

“Does he expect to 'crack up’?” Nancy gulped. 

“He’s a good flyer!” Peter maintained. “Maybe 
this Vale of Paradise is in South America.” 

“It is,” Uncle Lee said. “It’s Valparaiso, down 
in Chile. Jimmie has three friends here in South 
America who will take us about, the three Reed 



50 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


boys. They're brothers. Dick's in Lima. You'll 
meet him first. Bill's in Caracas, and John's in 
Rio." 

“Wonder if these Americans will make history," 
Peter said, “like Mrs. Goding and John Harman?" 

“They'll make history and geography, too," 
Uncle Lee declared. “Whether trails are made on 
land or in the air makes no difference. Americans 
are important in the commerce and the advance¬ 
ment of any country. And South America is 
advancing!" 



PERPETUAL SPRING ON THE EQUATOR 


E CUADOR means equator.” Nancy shivered. 
“There’s nothing very warm up here in 
the Andes. I wonder how far these mountain 
ranges extend.” 

The train of the wonderful railway planned by 
the American, John Harman, was still puffing up 
the steep inclines; but the valleys were beginning 
to appear with a shining river running between 
them like quicksilver. Below them the children be¬ 
held many high plateaus which they learned to call 
paramos. They were barren wastes with no vege¬ 
tation but coarse, stiff grass. The clouds cast violet 
shadows over the prairielike, sandy land. Peter 
had once seen bluish shadows like these on a 
Wyoming prairie in the United States. 

Uncle Lee was saying to Nancy, “The two 
ranges of the Andes are parallel with lower ranges 
connecting them. Think of these ranges as a 
ladder. The Eastern and Western Cordilleras are 
the sides, and the lower ranges are the rungs. 
Along the ascent lie Riobamba, Ambato, Lata- 
cunga, and at last Quito, the capital of Ecuador.” 

At Riobambo the children saw many Indians 
on the street. Most of them were peasants. Nancy 
and Peter were glad to be off the train and to 
follow several of the little children who were going 
to pick flowers on the edge of the town. They 


51 


52 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


gathered dandelions, geraniums, and wild helio¬ 
trope and offered them shyly to Nancy. This 
happy type of peasant Uncle Lee called the cholo. 
He is the descendant of the conquering Spaniard 
and the native Indian. His cheeriness, Uncle 
Lee explained, is due to the fact that he has the 
victor's joy in his blood. These peasants, Peter 
and Nancy saw, were not only cheerful, they were 
industrious, too. Everybody seemed to be at work. 
Even tiny children carried one or two bricks wher¬ 
ever building was going on. 

Above the rather desolate town rose the lofty 
mountain, Chimborazo. Uncle Lee said, “Even 
though it looks so very peaceful, Chimborazo is a 
volcanic mountain." 

“It's so beautiful I can hardly keep my eyes 
off it," Peter declared. 

“Just look, Peter, at this market with every¬ 
thing spread out on the ground!" cried Nancy. 
“Cabbage and potatoes, onions and corn, and 
melons, just as though we were at home! But the 
big colored handkerchiefs, the calicoes, the jewelry, 
the ponchos and particularly the llamas belong 
here. Llamas always look sort of bored, as though 
nothing really mattered." 

“They are supercilious, if you know what I 
mean—self-important," said Uncle Lee. “But 
they won't be imposed upon. A llama will carry 
just one hundred pounds and travel just fifteen 
miles a day, so I have been told. And he's his own 
judge of weight and distance." 




Ewing Galloway 

THE PEASANTS WERE NOT ONLY CHEERFUL, THEY 
WERE INDUSTRIOUS, TOO 





54 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


On the Guayaquil-to-Quito train again! It 
rolled down into verdant country. Peach, cherry, 
and pear trees were in blossom and bearing fruit. 
The baggage racks in the coaches were filled with 
strawberries, bananas, oranges, tangerines, and 
pineapples. 

“Only have to reach up if I get hungry,” Peter 
whispered. 

Nearly every passenger carried bouquets of 
roses, of heliotrope, or small nosegays of pansies. 

“We're coming into Ambato,” Uncle Lee said 
after a while. “The railroad station is so popular 
that the company has had to charge admission so 
that the traffic can get through.” 

“Maybe it's the only place to go,” Peter re¬ 
marked, “like the tracks in Buenaventura.” 

“It's the only convenient place for miles,” Uncle 
Lee remarked dryly, “where the natives can sell 
to travelers.” The train moved on, this time to 
Quito—Quito, the city that Jimmy Dustin had 
mentioned when he spoke of a city where there was 
eternal spring. 

It lay in a basin with mountains all around it, 
a city of flowery parks, dilapidated old buildings, 
handsome new buildings, and steep streets paved 
with cobblestones. And it was about ninety-three 
hundred feet above sea level with a population of 
one hundred twenty thousand people. 

“Quito is very old,” Uncle Lee said on that first 
day. “How old no one knows. Before the Span¬ 
iards came, the Incas lived here. Before the Incas 



PERPETUAL SPRING ON THE EQUATOR 


55 


the Caras lived here. Before the Caras—no one 
knows. It is old—very old.” 

In spite of its flowery court the hotel could not 
long hold Peter and Nancy. Almost immediately 
they were out on the street, leaving Uncle Lee 
to his writing. 

The street throngs were the most interesting 
they had ever beheld. There were many burden¬ 
bearing Indians who, with bare feet, walked along 
the flat stones in the center of the street. So many 
had walked that same path for such a countless 
number of years that their bare feet had worn 
deep depressions in the flat stones. Caravans of 
mules, gray with dust and stumbling with fatigue, 
made their way down the street. Peasants trudged 
along spinning, while Indians on horseback car¬ 
ried all sorts of produce to the market. Carts, 
limousines and donkeys also moved along. 

Everywhere there were monks. There were 
Dominicans in white robes with black cowls and 
Franciscans in coarse brown, their bare feet in 
hemp sandals. There were Sisters of Mercy, too, 
going about their duties, and a great many women 
with black mantas , or shawls, drawn closely about 
their heads. 

The houses were one, two, and three stories 
high. Balconies hung over the narrow sidewalks. 
Shops were all on the ground floor. The very rich 
and the very poor often lived under the same roof. 
The children wandered into a church whose clang¬ 
ing bell had encouraged them to enter. Here they 




56 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


saw the proud rich, kneeling beside the humblest 
of beggars. All the churches were highly ornate, 
and they seemed to be a very important part of 
the town’s life. Peter and Nancy grew used to the 
ringing of bells. Often they saw Indians wearing 
ponchos swinging on the heavy ropes in the bel¬ 
fries. Long after they returned home Peter and 
Nancy were to remember Quito as a city of bells. 

Nancy loved the weather-stained houses quite 
as much as she loved the pastel pink ones and the 
blue ones. Of course some were pure white that 
almost blinded one in the sunshine. Foot bridges 
spanned deep ravines. It was fun to come to these 
narrow bridges unexpectedly, walk over them and 
continue down the street. 

Uncle Lee would not permit Peter and Nancy 
to stroll alone out of the main part of the town. 
But they could learn much even in a short stroll. 
Quito seemed so far away from all the rest of 
the world. It was so high, so remote, and so 
changeless. Its sunshine was pleasant, although 
Nancy always felt chilled when in the shade. The 
weather was, as Jimmy Dustin had said it would 
be, more like spring than like any other season. 

There were flowers everywhere, especially in 
the monastery patios and in the plazas or parks. 
Nancy was becoming used to calla lilies as a com¬ 
mon garden flower. In one plaza there was a 
statue of General Sucre. The statue pointed to¬ 
ward a hill where, on May 24, 1822, he fought the 
battle of Pichincha, which freed Quito from Spain. 



PERPETUAL SPRING ON THE EQUATOR 


57 



Courtesy Grace Line 

A MONASTERY PATIO IN QUITO 

This very old city boasted modern sewers. Not 
only did men and women work in the excavations, 
but small children as well. Peter and Nancy saw 
boys no bigger than themselves carting away 
wheelbarrows full of dirt, and tiny girls doing 
their share, too. 

There were no newspapers except those printed 
in Spanish. Uncle- Lee read at least one copy a 
day. There were few references to the United 
States in these papers. To the citizens of Quito 
our country seemed too far away to be of any 
special interest. 








58 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 



Courtesy Pan American Union 


THE PYRAMID IN THE SKY THAT WAS COTOPAXI 

Peter and Nancy declared that Quito would 
always be a pleasant memory, although they were 
sure that when they went away that memory 
would seem unreal. But no more unreal than 
Latacunga, from which they viewed the volcanic 
mountain Cotopaxi! The little hotel to which 
Uncle Lee took them was built of pumice stone 
cast up by this very volcano. Even the bridge was 
of pumice, as were the whitewashed houses. In 
the town grew giant cacti, eucalyptus trees, and 
century plants, reminding the children of desert 
country. Their low shoes were full of volcanic 
sand, but near the mountain, they were told, could 
be picked wild heliotrope and one could enjoy the 
sight of hummingbirds. 

Cotopaxi was a glittering white, that seemed 










PERPETUAL SPRING ON THE EQUATOR 


59 


to be shot through with rainbow colors. Peter said 
it looked like a shining marble mountain. 

Uncle Lee pointed out a great pile of rock at its 
snowy edge. The rock was in the form of a giant 
face upturned. Indians called it “The Inca's 
Head." It was supposed by them to have been 
hurled from the crater of the volcano on the day 
the great Inca king, Atahualpa, was killed. He 
it was whose people filled his prison room with 
gold to gain his freedom from Pizarro. Pizarro, 
however, did not keep his word and ordered the 
great Inca king to be killed. All the Incas be¬ 
lieved that even Nature mourned his loss. 

Uncle Lee said that one of the strangest things 
in South America was the avenue of vast volcanoes 
leading up to Quito; but as evening drew near, 
Peter and Nancy knew that nothing could be more 
beautiful than the pyramid in the sky that was 
Cotopaxi, 



HORSES SHOD WITH SILVERS 


S AND! Sand! Sand! Peter and Nancy stood 
beside Uncle Lee on the deck of the little 
steamer. They had left Ecuador behind. After the 
black, moist soil of the little fan-shaped country, 
the bleak coast of Peru with its changeless scenery 
was surprisingly desolate. 

“How much is there of this desert coast?” Peter 
asked. 

“Oh, about two thousand miles,” Uncle Lee 
replied, in a matter-of-fact manner. “All along 
the Peruvian coast and down into Chile.” 

“Even the mountains in the distance look gray 
and barren,” Nancy declared, “except where a 
snow peak shows white.” 

“The Pacific side of this steamer may please 
you two much better,” Uncle Lee suggested. “It's 
sparkling enough to suit even the most fanciful 
tourist.” 

Peter and Nancy, however, did not leave their 
places at the rail. There was something fascinat¬ 
ing about those sandy shores, where a man could 
travel for miles without seeing a tree or a blade 
of grass. 

“When you look at that sand for a long time,” 
Nancy spoke up, “it seems to be moving.” 

“It is moving!” Peter said this in a superior 
tone. 


60 


‘HORSES SHOD WITH SILVER 


61 


“One of the sailors told me that those queer 
half-moons of sand—you notice they're all sizes— 
are called the traveling sand dunes of Peru. They 
really are moving south." 

“The wind's blowing from the north," Nancy 
cried. 

“I know it," Peter agreed. “That north wind 
rolls the little grains on the south side up over 
the outside of each half-moon. All paths are cov¬ 
ered up almost as soon as they are made and 
people have to travel by the stars. Nothing but 
vultures and condors waiting out there for unfor¬ 
tunate travelers!" 

“Aren't there any oases?" Nancy was a trifle 
pale. “I never heard of a desert country without 
oases." 

“That sailor said there were about forty little 
rivers running down from the Andes into the 
two thousand miles of sand," Peter replied. 
“ ‘Wherever the snow water flows, the desert 
blooms'." 

“And I thought Peru would be nothing but gold 
and silver." Nancy looked disappointed. “Some¬ 
how I even expected to see horses shod with 
silver." 

“When you behold the descendants of the Incas, 
keep that picture in your mind." Uncle Lee's 
bright blue eyes were seeing visions. “Then you'll 
understand Peru much better than you otherwise 
would. The Incas ate and drank from dishes of 
gold and silver. But they loved the land. They 



62 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


were not greedy for gold. They cared for it only 
because it was beautiful. Pizarro wanted the 
precious metal for its money value. Out of one 
temple he took as much gold as forty-two horses 
could haul and twice as much silver; and of course 
when the horses of the conqueror needed new shoes, 
silver was the handiest metal. Even the nails of 
the temples were silver. The Incas that Pizarro 
found knew how to irrigate the land, how to build 
cities, and how to cultivate the hillsides of the 
Andes, as well as how to mine gold. When you 
go up into the mountains, you can still see some 
of the terraces they built. A worker could stand 
on one cliff and weed the garden plot just above 
him.” 

“It was Pizarro who caused Cuzco, the ancient 
capital of the Incas, to become only a memory of 
what it once had been,” Uncle Lee continued. “He 
founded the new capital at Lima, closer to the 
sea, and I think you’ll agree that he chose well. 
Here was a level building site about seven miles 
from the Pacific.” 

The Rimac River, flowing down from the tops 
of the Andes and bringing its pure snow water to 
the thirsty land, must have looked tempting to 
Pizarro. Without it the site would have been a 
desert. With it the country was luxurious. Sugar 
cane stood high in long, even rows. Cotton bloomed 
like roses, some blossoms yellow and others pale 
pink. Men worked in rice fields. 

After the most monotonous trip that Nancy 



‘HORSES SHOD WITH SILVER 


63 



Courtesy Grace Line 

THE HARBOR AT CALLAO, PERU 


and Peter were ever to take along a coast in 
South America, the Rimac valley looked particu¬ 
larly delightful. Although their destination was 
Lima, they were forced to land at Callao on the 
coast. Nancy and Peter both knew that at most 
west coast ports there were neither harbors nor 
docks. Ships anchored out at sea and discharged 
passengers in launches. Even at Callao the pas¬ 
sengers used to go ashore in small boats manned 
by fleteros or boatmen. Now the boats land at 
a port built by engineers from the United States. 

Peter and Nancy stood beside Uncle Lee on the 
dock, their bags at their feet, wondering how they 
were to get to Lima, by boat or by train. Their 










64 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


searching eyes looked out over the level, fertile 
plain which stretched before them. It appeared 
to be as smooth as a floor. Beyond, the spires and 
towers of a city were plainly visible. 

“Lima is about seven miles away as the crow 
flies,” Uncle Lee said. 

A car swung in from the drive and came along¬ 
side the dock. Out of the driver’s seat leaped a 
sturdy boy, so typically American, that Peter and 
Nancy laughed with joy. His flashing smile was 
contagious. He glanced hurriedly about, then 
seemed to recognize Uncle Lee. 

“Hello!” he called out to them. “You’re Mr. 
MacLaren, aren’t you? Jimmy Dustin said I’d 
find you here. I knew you by your party. This is 
Nancy, I’m sure. And here’s Peter.” 

Dick Reed soon had Nancy seated beside him, 
while Uncle Lee and Peter settled themselves in 
the back part of the car with the luggage. Driv¬ 
ing up the concrete boulevard in the modern car, 
both Nancy and Peter felt just the least twinge 
of regret that bullock carts had been replaced 
by modern automobiles. 

Clouds hung low over the level plain, through 
which the Rimac flowed. Lima loomed closer and 
closer. The children saw it now as a city of flat 
roofs with the spires and towers above them. The 
gray, bleak hills of the Andes formed the back¬ 
ground. 

About halfway to Lima, Nancy saw that the 
car was approaching a vast ridge. 




‘HORSES SHOD WITH SILVER ’ 


65 



Ewing Galloway 

THE CITY OF LIMA, WITH THE ANDES IN THE 
BACKGROUND 

“A hill!” shouted Peter. “How did a hill get 
down on this plain?” 

“IPs not a hill at all,” Dick Reed called back. 
“IPs the biggest pile of adobe brick in the world!” 

“Are you joking?” asked Nancy. 

She stared at the huge ridge, several city blocks 
long, half as wide and as high as a four-story 
building. Uncle Lee said that to remove it would 
cost more than any engineering project in South 
America. The valiant highway, however, cut 
straight through it. Peter, demanding to know 






66 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


who had built it and why, was given the unsatis¬ 
factory answer, “No one knows!” It was there 
long before the time of Pizarro, long before his¬ 
tories were written. 

“We approach the ‘City of the Kings/ ” Dick 
cried, his blue-gray eyes alight with the joy of 
entertaining his own countrymen. 

“Why is it called the ‘City of the Kings’?” 
Nancy inquired. “Because of silver and gold?” 

“No, although Pizarro brought down plenty of 
gold and silver when he built it,” Dick explained. 
“Much of that gold was the very gold with which 
the Inca monarch, Atahualpa, had paid for the 
liberty he never received—the gold from the room 
twenty-two feet long, by seventeen feet wide, and 
nine feet high. And there had been two rooms 
full of silver for good measure. That ransom, 
Miss Nancy, was one of the greatest king’s ran¬ 
soms in history. With part of it this city was built. 

“Oh, yes. You asked, 'Why is it called the 
City of the Kings?’ ” Dick continued. “There 
are different stories told but this is the one I like. 
Pizarro christened Lima on Epiphany Sunday— 
away back in 1535—and called it the ‘City of the 
Kings.’ The 'kings’ were the three wise men of 
the East who visited the Christ child at Epiphany, 
the twelfth day after His birth. Pizarro also built 
a cathedral, and you’ll see a high altar of massive 
silver. You’ll also see the skeleton of Pizarro him¬ 
self, reposing in a lovely glass and marble casket. 
He looks like anything but a conqueror.” 






Ewing Galloway 


CATHEDRAL IN LIMA ON THE SITE OF THE ORIGINAL 
BUILDING ERECTED BY PIZARRO 








68 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


Most of the streets in this city of about 273,000 
were so narrow that there was only a one-way 
passage, but Dick maneuvered his car up to the 
hotel where Uncle Lee had made reservations. An 
hour later after refreshments Uncle Lee, Dick 
and the children climbed to the roof of the great 
hotel in order to have a better view of the city. 

“From Callao, I thought it was a city of towers 
and spires!” Peter exclaimed. “But most of the 
roofs are flat; and, if I’m not mistaken, I see 
chickens on a couple of roofs over there. Let me 
take your spy glass, Uncle. Say! Pm right.” 

“Of course, you are.” Dick Reed was enjoy¬ 
ing himself. “There are some strangely old-fash¬ 
ioned things about Lima in spite of that modern 
boulevard and the bullring. For one thing, it rains 
so seldom that there are probably not a dozen 
umbrellas or a pair of rubbers in the city. The 
houses are constructed of the mud called adobe.” 

“They don’t look much like dried mud,” Nancy 
spoke up. “That one over there, built like a hollow 
square with the little garden in the center, looks 
like marble. The next one appears to be granite, 
and surely those brightly colored houses—” 

“All mud!” Dick Reed insisted, “in the form of 
sun-dried brick, to be sure. At least the first story 
is always of sun-dried brick. The second story is 
often of mud and bamboo cane. Earth is spread 
on top, and lots of people raise chickens on their 
roofs. And in spite of the beautiful modern mar¬ 
kets, you’ll still see milk women carrying their 



‘HORSES SHOD WITH SILVER’ 


69 


cans of milk in leather buckets fastened to the 
sides of ponies. Some old customs never change, 
even though Lima has a large white population.” 

The market was quite as wonderful as Dick 
Reed had said it would be. It covered a whole 
square. Besides a variety of meat, of which guinea 
pig seemed to be a great favorite, there were many 
kinds of fish. The vegetable stands seemed marvel¬ 
ous with string beans two feet long, potatoes yel¬ 
low as gold, and yuccas as big as squashes. There 
were roasting ears, too, and every known veg¬ 
etable. Pomegranates, guavas, alligator pears, 
and oranges vied in color and size and beauty 
with lemons, bananas, peaches, pears, and grapes. 

“Lima can produce almost anything,” Dick 
boasted. “Her greatest need is help with irriga¬ 
tion. When you get back to the States, I wish 
you'd tell the world about us.” 

“We shall,” Nancy and Peter promised in one 
voice; and Uncle Lee added, “It's a city we’ll not 
soon forget.” 



FROM COAST TO CLOUDS IN PERU 


T HE Peruvian friend of Uncle Lee's that Peter 
and Nancy met in the hotel was very polite. It 
pleased Peter to be offered a magnificent horse as 
a gift because he had happened to admire it. It 
almost took Nancy's breath away when she ex¬ 
pressed her delight in the beautiful statuary of 
a lovely garden to have it offered to her. Uncle 
Lee actually looked worried for fear his niece and 
nephew might misunderstand and joyfully accept 
these generous offers. Peter and Nancy, however, 
knew that this was mere politeness; but they 
found it quite as exciting and gratifying as though 
they had actually received the gifts that they 
could not take with them. 

In two or three hours of visiting they gained 
a fine picture of Peru and her problems. In Peru 
Spanish rule had begun, and ended. Peru is now 
a republic. 

Geographically speaking, as Uncle Lee's friend 
said, there were three zones. First of all there 
were the lowlands, twenty to a hundred-and- 
twenty miles wide and mostly desert. This part 
lay between the Pacific Ocean and the Andes. 

“That's the zone we're in now," Nancy spoke 
up eagerly. 

Uncle Lee's friend nodded. The second zone, he 
explained, comprised the mountain ranges and 


70 


FROM COAST TO CLOUDS IN PERU 


71 


plateaus with their fertile valleys. Unlike the first 
zone, the second zone had a fair rainfall. 

“That’s the zone we’re going into tomorrow.” 
Peter was excited. “We’re going up on the Central 
Railway to Oroya. Did you know, Nancy, that 
Americans built it? It was planned by a man 
named Henry Meiggs, who wanted to connect the 
seaport with the famous silver mines of Cerro de 
Pasco, a mining town about 14,380 feet above sea 
level. It’s the highest standard gauge railway in 
the world—climbs about sixteen thousand feet. 
Dick said we’d start at Callao and go up behind 
Lima over the mountains to Oroya.” 

Uncle Lee’s guest applauded Peter’s knowledge 
and went on to describe the third zone of Peru, the 
great eastern region, still partly unexplored. This 
land, he said, sloped down from the eastern range 
of the Andes to the tributaries and upper valleys 
of the Amazon. Here were dense forests. Here 
one found the sort of heavy rainfall that encour¬ 
aged jungle growth. The guest went on to explain 
that the three zones gave to Peru a variety of 
products. 

“I know what’s in the first zone,” Nancy ex¬ 
claimed. “Sugar and rice and cotton. Instead of 
being white the cotton blossoms are a beautiful 
pink or yellow. I’ve heard it’s the best cotton in 
the world, almost like wool.” 

“You flatter my country, Senorita!” cried Uncle 
Lee’s guest. 

“She’s right!” Peter almost shouted. “Your 



72 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


coal up in the mountain zone is high grade, too. 
Uncle Lee says Peru doesn't really need it herself 
because she is not a manufacturing country. But 
I should think the Indians up in the snow country 
would need it." 

“They have wool from the llama and the al¬ 
paca," Nancy explained. “Remember great grand¬ 
mother's alpaca shawl that mother has laid away 
in lavender?" 

Uncle Lee's friend was interested in the shawl. 
Then, since neither Peter nor Nancy volunteered 
to tell him anything else, he continued: 

“We Peruvians are greedy for praise. We still 
produce some gold and much silver. We still have 
many worth-while gifts for the good of the whole 
world. In our forests you will find rubber trees 
without which your ride along our new boulevard 
here in Lima would not have been so pleasant. 
Then there are the coca leaves in the deep forests 
from which cocaine is extracted. There's the cin¬ 
chona bark, too, from which quinine is made." 

Peter made a wry face. 

“I had to take quinine once," he said, “when I 
had a fever." 

“I want to ask something more," Nancy inter¬ 
rupted. “Where is all the silver? I thought it 
would be much more plentiful. I thought horses 
would be shod with it." 

“Sh!" warned Peter. 

Uncle Lee's friend had become suddenly very 
sad. 



FROM COAST TO CLOUDS IN PERU 


73 



Ewing Galloway 

BIRDS ON AN ISLAND OFF PERU 

“Peru,” he explained, “has lost much of her gold 
and silver—and all of her tin, I am afraid—to 
independent Bolivia. Chile took our nitrate and 
guano deposits. You children know, of course, 
that guano deposits are from the droppings of 
birds, and from dead fish and seals; and that both 
nitrates and guano deposits are invaluable fertil¬ 
izers. Perhaps you don’t know that Peru has 
petroleum, but the oil in Colombia and Vene¬ 
zuela is closer to the world markets. Aviation, 
my little friends, is a godsend to Peru. Now we 
shall never again be very far from our markets.” 




74 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


“You certainly need aviation," Peter declared 
bluntly. “Why, you haven't even a railway along 
the coast." 

This time Nancy said “Sh,” but the polite Peru¬ 
vian merely smiled. 

On the following morning Dick Reed drove the 
MacLarens back to Callao. They were all very 
glad to see the Rimac close at hand again, a shal¬ 
low, sparkling little river, flowing over a rocky 
bed close to the railway. In the clumps of banana 
trees stood picturesque native huts. Farther on 
were groups of tall slim poplars which made Nancy 
just a wee bit homesick. Peter was most interested 
in the adobe fences that made a crisscross design 
in the fields. 

“Pm going to build us a mud fence when I 
get home," he declared. 

“I guess you've forgotten the climate of your 
own country," Nancy teased. “We have spring 
rains, Brother." 

The train passed quickly beyond Lima with its 
spires above the low roofs. It reached the foot¬ 
hills at a small station, then began its arduous 
climb by a series of switchbacks which made Peter 
and Nancy think of the Devil's Nose in Ecuador. 
It was the same sort of zigzag course up the cliffs. 

Peter and Nancy sat side by side, Nancy near 
the window. Uncle Lee leaned over to inform them 
that the Central Railway of Peru would pass 
through some sixty-five tunnels and run over some 
sixty-one bridges before it reached its destination. 





FROM COAST TO CLOUDS IN PERU 


75 


“We pass through more than one kind of cli¬ 
mate, too, so Dick says,” Peter answered. “Maybe 
I won’t grumble about carrying these coats after 
all. It’s getting cooler already.” 

It had been summer down at Callao. It was now 
spring. Instead of sugar cane, Nancy exclaimed 
at the beauty of fruit orchards. When Peter 
pointed out the first cactus, he said, “We’ll soon 
see ice and snow.” 

Nancy gave Peter her place at the window when 
they came to an Indian village marked by adobe 
huts. The natives were greasy-haired, red¬ 
cheeked, somber people. The men wore shabby 
trousers and ponchos and the women bright- 
colored shirt waists and full bright skirts. Some¬ 
thing in their unsmiling countenances touched 
Nancy’s heart. These were a conquered people, 
their once proud spirits broken. 

Uncle Lee kept an eye out for the terraces that 
had been built by the Incas, of which Peter and 
Nancy had heard so much. There they were at 
last, a perfect network of stone walls covered with 
earth. Here the Incas had grown their maize 
under much more difficult conditions than the 
American Indian had grown his. These terraces 
rose to the very tops of some of the mountains. 

It grew colder. Peter and Nancy put on their 
heavy coats. So did Uncle Lee. The mountains 
now towered high above the tracks, while down 
below, like a tiny white ribbon, flowed the Rimac. 
There were narrow cliffs and precipices that 



76 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 



Courtesy Grace Line 


A PERFECT NETWORK OF STONE WALLS, BUILT 
BY THE INCAS 

seemed too narrow to skirt. Such deep gorges and 
narrow canyons! Such towering mountains like 
gray battlements! Such magnificent snow moun¬ 
tains, breath-taking in their beauty. 

When a stop was made at Rio Blanco, Uncle 
Lee, Peter, and Nancy left the train for a moment. 
Not far away was a herd of llamas that they had 
seen grazing only a short time before on something 
that looked like half-frozen moss. What queer¬ 
looking creatures they were, with their slim legs, 
bushy bodies, and long necks, looking always so 
self-satisfied and poised. They are healthy only in 
high altitudes, so Uncle Lee informed the children. 

The train crept on up, over bridges and through 





FROM COAST TO CLOUDS IN PERU 


77 



Ewinff Galloway 

WHAT QUEER-LOOKING CREATURES THE LLAMAS ARE! 

tunnels. The air was very cold, and once the train 
passed through a hailstorm. But at last the high¬ 
est railroad point in the world was reached. The 
train stopped. Peter looked at Nancy inquiringly 
when she spoke in a rather weak voice. The air 
was so thin that it made breathing difficult. 
Peter’s own shoes seemed heavy, and he had no 
desire to shout or run. Uncle Lee held a cup in a 
little trickling stream at the side of the railroad 
and said, “This water is on its way to the Pacific.” 
Then he jumped across the track again and held 
the cup down in another little stream. “This 






78 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


water,” he declared, “is on its way to the At¬ 
lantic.” 

“And I feel,” said Peter sleepily, “as though I 
were on my way to bed.” 

“IPs the thin air due to the great height,” Uncle 
Lee explained. “You'll get used to it.” 

The MacLarens enjoyed the trip back down the 
railway quite as much as they had enjoyed the 
ascent. The sunset painted the crags crimson and 
gold. The valleys were purple and plum-colored 
and the water silver. The air was so fresh and 
invigorating that Peter grew very wide-awake 
again. 

“I almost forgot to look at the silver and copper 
mines,” he said. “For once I like scenery quite 
as much as Nancy does. But I’ll not forget the 
diggings. Some of those shafts were sunk by the 
Spaniards or maybe by the Incas before the Span¬ 
iards came. Seems queer to see those deep holes 
in the earth with stone buildings close to them.” 

“Such modern buildings, too,” Nancy added. 
“Offices and a hospital—and pretty bungalows, 
too.” 

“Where do we go from here?” asked Nancy 
when the train pulled into the station at Callao. 
“I'd like to see Cuzco, where the Incas ruled, and 
I'd like to see Lake Titicaca, too. Dick says it's 
the most beautiful lake in the world and so high 
that it seems as though it were in the sky.” 

“I'd like to visit Iquitos, the lumber and rubber 
port,” Peter spoke up. “But Dick says it's hard 





FROM COAST TO CLOUDS IN PERU 


79 


to reach. Then there’s Arequipa a short distance 
in the interior.” 

“It will be impossible to take time for such 
trips,” Uncle Lee said soberly as they got off the 
train. “I haven’t a magic carpet.” 

“Did some one say ‘magic carpet’?” a voice 
asked. 

Dick Reed stood beside them on the platform. 

“These youngsters want to see everything,” 
Uncle Lee complained. “You’d think they were on 
a life tour instead of a few months’ vacation.” 

“I can’t furnish a magic carpet,” said Dick, 
“but I can provide something every bit as good. 
Jimmy Dustin is here with his airplane!” 



WHERE THE SUN IS TIED 


I T WAS very hot on the coast, so hot in fact that 
Jimmy Dustin almost lost his temper before he 
could persuade Peter and Nancy to get into their 
heavy coats and to put on warm helmets. Even 
Uncle Lee, seated in the plane behind Peter and 
Nancy, grumbled. 

But once away from the shifting sands of the 
shore and above the sparkling blue water of the 
Pacific, the MacLarens settled down to enjoy 
themselves. 

The plane turned inward toward a green valley, 
then tilted up over a plateau that looked quite as 
desolate as the sandy shores. Below the plane, vast 
gorges gradually opened up. The scenery became 
wildly grand, so magnificent that it defied de¬ 
scription. 

“Cuzco, down below!” Jimmy Dustin shouted 
back. “Pll circle round, then we’ll turn north to 
Machu Picchu!” 

Because of the roar of the motors Jimmy’s voice 
was almost lost to them, but his gestures were more 
distinct than his words. 

The children looked down upon the remains of 
the ancient Inca city of Cuzco, lying there so 
placidly in the high Andes near the summit of 
the divide. It looked like a fairy city, set down 
in this green valley by a magician. On all the 


80 


WHERE THE SUN IS TIED 


81 



Ewing Galloway 

NATIVES AT INCA THRONE, CUZCO 

highways below, Peter and Nancy could see na¬ 
tives making their way into Cuzco. Every visitor 
as he neared the city uncovered his head to pray, 
and every visitor, once outside the city, likewise 
stopped to pray. Uncle Lee remarked that Cuzco 
was the Mecca of Peru. 

Jimmy flew so low that the market place came 
into view. And there, surely, lay the gardens 
where the “Temple of the Sun God” had stood 
when Pizarro attacked it in 1531. How majestic 
the pillars looked and how lovely the granite build¬ 
ings! The circling plane was all too soon journey- 





82 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


ing away from the old Inca city, but the roadsides 
were interesting, too. The quaint signs outside 
the huts attracted Peter's attention. 

“That green wreath means there's bread for 
sale!" Jimmy shouted back in answer to Peter's 
question. “That bunch of flowers on the end of 
a stick means that you may purchase chicha, a 
sort of beer, in that little hut." 

“I'd like to land and talk with that Indian who's 
selling peppers," Uncle Lee exclaimed. 

“It wouldn't do any good," Jimmy shouted. 
“The natives here don't speak Spanish; they are 
Quichuas, and they still speak the language of 
the tribe." 

Up, up, up, roared the plane, up over the crest 
of the Andes. After a while it descended into the 
Urubamba Canyon with its roaring river. For 
sixty miles the plane followed that gorge, and both 
Peter and Nancy, looking down on the steep cliffs, 
wondered how anybody could make the journey on 
foot. It was down this very canyon that in 1531 
a hundred maidens had fled from Pizarro's attack 
on the Temple of the Sun God. 

The story of the maidens, as told by Jimmy just 
before the take-off, had touched the hearts of both 
Peter and Nancy. The maidens, chosen to serve 
the Sun God, were the most beautiful and the 
most brilliant of the Inca daughters. They were 
revered and loved by all. 

Pizarro, ever greedy for gold, came with his 
soldiers to Cuzco because he had heard that the 



WHERE THE SUN IS TIED 


83 


city housed much of the precious metal. At sight 
of the golden walls, the golden altar, and the 
golden garden in the temple, the soldiers became 
drunk with joy. Nor were they satisfied to steal 
what they could lay their hands on and to kill 
the keepers of the temple! No, indeed! They 
broke into the very sanctuary where the maidens 
lived and carried off many. One hundred escaped. 

The hundred maidens fled north over the crest 
of the Andes. They were led by an old priest of 
the temple who knew a deep secret. He knew 
where the original Inca city was located, the city 
in which the Incas had lived before they founded 
Cuzco. It was on no map. Indians passing daily 
at its base never saw it. Pizarro and his greedy 
Spaniards thought this old city lay southwest of 
Cuzco, but they were mistaken. No one in Peru, 
except members of a religious order, knew where 
the city was located. They had kept it ready in 
case it should ever be needed. 

If it had not been for Jimmy's serious face in 
telling this story, Peter would have thought that 
he was listening to a “tall tale." 

“A city could not be hidden in our country," 
Peter had declared. 

“Maybe it was just a small city," Nancy had 
guessed. 

“Oh, no!" Jimmy's blue eyes, like Uncle Lee's, 
seemed to be seeing visions. “Machu Picchu had 
at least four hundred hewn stone houses. It had 
temples and palaces, too. But the surrounding 



84 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


cliffs were so steep that it remained hidden from 
the world until 1911.” 

“But what became of the maidens?” Nancy had 
asked. 

“But what became of the maidens?” Nancy had 
of the story. The maidens had crossed the roaring 
Urubamba River on logs laced together with jun¬ 
gle vines. He explained how they had climbed the 
narrow ledges and followed the trail, often clam¬ 
bering up vine ladders or clinging to stout roots. 
And at last they had reached Machu Picchu, 
with its gleaming, sunlit, granite buildings. They 
had climbed the steps and had gone up tier after 
tier to the very top, where the huge sundial was 
to be found. The sundial was called “The Place 
Where the Sun Is Tied.” 

Here the hundred maidens lived out their lives. 
Daily they went to the little fountain with their 
water pitchers. Every year they planted gardens 
on the terraces of the steep mountain and no one 
came to rescue them. They did not know that their 
loved ones had been killed, nor that Pizarro him¬ 
self later died by the sword. 

So strange was the story that Peter and Nancy 
could hardly believe that they themselves were 
close to the lost city. The plane roared straight up 
and then began to circle what looked like a white 
marble toy city on top of a high mountain. Nancy 
heard Peter catch his breath sharply. Below them 
lay Machu Picchu, imprisoned by snowcapped 
mountains. Coiled around the base of the city on 



WHERE THE SUN IS TIED 


85 



Ewing Galloway 

BELOW THEM LAY MACHU PICCHU, IMPRISONED 
BY MOUNTAINS 

three sides lay the Urubamba River. To reach the 
ruins of the beautiful granite city a traveler 
would have to climb the steep ascent in the rear. 
It was like an eagle's nest, so high, so secure, so 
carefully hidden. 

“Who discovered it in 1911?" asked Peter when 
he could come back to earthly thoughts. 

“An American expedition led by Hiram Bing¬ 
ham explored and uncovered the remains of the 
lost city," Uncle Lee answered. “His party found 
the burial caves in the terraces below the city. 








86 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


These caves contained the skeletons of the maid¬ 
ens, with bronze cooking utensils and various 
little treasures.” 

Nancy’s eyes grew misty. In her imagination 
she saw the hundred maidens in this strangely 
beautiful city, homesick for Cuzco and their loved 
ones. She saw them watching and waiting for the 
sight of a familiar figure along the mountain trail. 
After a while they must have ceased to watch. 
They were growing older, surely. Gradually the 
burial caves had been dug and filled. The time 
would come when only one or two old women would 
be left. Nancy could almost see that last one, that 
very old, old woman walking feebly among the 
ruins. Perhaps she liked to sit near “the place 
where the sun was tied,” to see the moon rise, and 
to watch for the Southern Cross above the mag¬ 
nificent mountains. 

Uncle Lee brought Nancy back to the present 
by exclaiming over the two-thousand-foot drop 
from the sundial. He was taking notes about the 
terraces, the snowcapped mountains, and the 
course of the roaring river that had cut through 
a granite chasm. 

Now the crumbling granite city was being left 
behind and the plane seemed to be flying south. 

Suddenly through a gap in the bleak mountain 
walls appeared a beautiful green oasis, which was 
Arequipa, the second largest city in Peru. Be¬ 
hind it rose the cone-shaped summit of Mount 
Misti with its shining peak. Nancy remembered 





WHERE THE SUN IS TIED 


87 



Courtesy Grace Line 

THE CONE-SHAPED SUMMIT OF MT. MISTI 


that the name of this city, Arequipa, meant in the 
Inca language, “Stay here!” 

In the midst of desert country Arequipa was 
delightfully refreshing to look upon. To Nancy it 
was more picturesque than Lima, and the cathe¬ 
dral bells reminded her of Quito. Uncle Lee called 
it a city of art and religion. It did look peaceful, 
with its many Indians padding barefooted down 
its streets. 

“Now you'll see something!” Jimmy shouted 
back, as Arequipa became a mere green blot below. 
Nancy guessed what was speeding them toward 
the east. 

It flashed at last before her, a blue blur, Lake 
Titicaca! Then the blur became a blue jewel. 
She knew that this lake was almost as high in the 








88 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 



TITICACA, THE HIGHEST LAKE IN THE WORLD 

air as the highest mountain tops back home. Peter 
said it was half as large as Lake Ontario. 

“The highest lake in the world!” exclaimed 
Peter. “And the highest houses in the world!” 

“Why Peter MacLaren, those houses aren’t 
high!” Nancy laughed. “They’re thatched huts!” 

“Well, they are high up in the world, aren’t 
they?” answered Peter. 

It was wonderful to be up above the lake. By 
turning about Nancy could watch Uncle Lee tak- 











WHERE THE SUN IS TIED 


89 


ing notes. He was trying to locate the nine rivers 
that flowed into the lake from the Andean peaks. 
From that height, the glaciers and the snow 
showed part of the source of the lake’s moisture. 
Surely Lake Titicaca would never disappear. 

“I’d like to go down and ride in one of those 
native boats from Puno.” Peter was getting rest¬ 
less. “If they become water-logged, the sailors 
have to pull them up on a bank and dry them out. 
Well, I can swim.” 

“I’d rather go back to Machu Picchu,” Nancy 
declared. “I’d like to sit on the sundial and watch 
the sun go down.” 

“Good night!” said Peter in boyish disgust. 



A TOWN THAT SELLS BARK 


“TTTE’VE ridden every other way,” Nancy re- 

W minded Uncle Lee. “I’m not one bit sur¬ 
prised that we’re making this trip by stage. I 
wonder how that Indian ever manages to drive 
eight mules.” 

Peter, seated beside the driver, turned around in 
his seat. 

“He wouldn’t be going so fast if it weren’t for 
my help,” he boasted. “See the little pile of stones 
beside me on the seat? Well, if one or the other 
of the mules lags behind, I give his ears a good 
flip. And I never miss.” 

“You owe that aim, Peter,” Uncle Lee declared, 
“to the accuracy with which you learned to throw 
papers on your route at home.” 

The MacLarens had left Jimmy and his plane in 
Guaqui. He would wait for them there. They 
were now breathing deeply of the pure cold air of 
the Bolivian plateau. The sky was blue and clear. 
The plains did not look very luxurious, but flocks 
of llamas, alpacas, and sheep seemed to be feeding 
with quiet satisfaction on the thin grass. 

“Mountains again!” exulted Nancy. “It’s good 
to see them after the lake. See those low hills in 
the west, Uncle Lee! And did you ever see a more 
wonderful lot of snow mountains than those in 
the east? What’s that highest peak? Don’t tell 


90 


A TOWN THAT SELLS BARK 


91 


me. I promised I’d remember to look for it. I’ve 
got it now—Illimani!” 

“A mountain about four miles high,” said Uncle 
Lee. 

The other passengers, mostly Indians, were 
amused at the enthusiasm of the travelers. 

“There’s a mud hut!” Peter turned around 
again. “Let’s stop and get something to eat! A 
fellow I met at Lima said they had grand things 
to eat in Bolivia—coffee buns that tasted like 
pastry and empanadas, which he said were little 
meat pies folded over on the edges. I suppose 
there’s plenty of red pepper in them, but that 
wouldn’t stop me now.” 

“Your knowledge of Bolivia, Peter,” Uncle Lee 
remarked with a merry smile, “seems mainly culi¬ 
nary. What you should know is, that Bolivia has 
some of the oldest ruins in the world, some revered 
shrines, and the highest navigable lake.” 

“Lake Titicaca!” Peter cried. “Can’t catch me 
on that one! Say, we’re right on the brink of a 
precipice, aren’t we? No more stone throwing 
for me. Those mules may creep along like snails 
if they like.” 

“They’re going faster than ever,” Nancy re¬ 
marked. “They must be getting near home.” 

“They are,” Uncle Lee agreed. “If you’ll look 
down that thousand feet, you’ll catch your first 
glimpse of La Paz.” 

What Peter and Nancy saw looked like a jumble 
of red roofs, the size of the roofs of doll houses, 



92 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


while the trees here and there appeared to be tiny 
sprigs. Down the steep slopes of the hillside gal¬ 
loped the mules while the MacLarens held on for 
dear life. The stage seemed to have no brakes, 
and the mules needed no urging. The newcomers 
caught a fleeting picture of walled gardens and 
then the stage rolled suddenly down into the heart 
of the town. 

Even at first glance La Paz proved to be differ¬ 
ent from any town the MacLarens had visited. 
Nearly all the men wore ponchos , and these blan¬ 
kets with holes cut through the center were of 
bright weaves. The women all wore bright-colored 
skirts and striped shawls, with queer-looking hats 
that Uncle Lee called “toppers.” These hats were 
shaped a good deal like a man’s silk hat except 
that the brim was straighter and broader. More¬ 
over, the entire hat was of a light color, beautifully 
varnished. All the men, women and children 
seemed clad in bright-colored garments. 

When a woman passed, wearing a beautifully 
embroidered pink shawl with a lace petticoat 
peeping out, and a high-crowned hat upon her 
head, Uncle Lee said, “She belongs to the cholos. 
The cholos, as Pve told you youngsters before, 
are a mixture of Indian and Spanish; and they 
are, as a rule, much more prosperous than the 
native Indians.” 

“Are we going to see just Indians in La Paz?” 
Peter asked. His tone implied that seeing nothing 
but Indians would be satisfactory to him. 



A TOWN THAT SELLS BARK 


93 



Ewing Galloway 

THE QUEER COSTUMES OF THE BOLIVIAN WOMEN 

“No such luck!” said Uncle Lee. “There go 
some white men and here comes our landlord. He 
looks as North American as we do.” 

But if the clothes of reds and blues and greens 
on the street were colorful, so were the houses. 
They were, however, painted in more subdued 
colors—pastel colors, Uncle Lee called them. Here 








94 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


would be a lavender shoeshop next to a rose-pink 
grocery store. Down the street would appear 
a pale-green tailor shop and up the street an 
orchid-colored home. All the shops were open to 
the streets, and the MacLarens did not have to 
enter in order to see the stock of goods. 

The stage had disappeared, and, strangely 
enough, there was not a vehicle of any sort on the 
streets. Peter and Nancy saw the situation at 
once. The streets were all so narrow and so steep 
that it would be difficult for a cart or a car to 
climb them. Everywhere were donkeys, ponies, 
and llamas, all laden down with packages and pro¬ 
duce. Indian porters marched along, bent almost 
double under their burdens. Then, surprisingly, 
a wheezing automobile came along. 

The children took a short walk but were soon 
out of breath in the high air. 

“We’ll get used to it,” Peter declared. 

On the following morning Peter and Nancy 
awoke early to follow in the wake of several Indian 
women carrying fruit and vegetables to market. 
This produce had been tied in bright-colored 
blankets and slung over their shoulders. Other 
men and women drove well-laden donkeys or 
llamas along the street, and once in a while a 
contented baby would peer out of a shawl on its 
mother’s back. Down on the market square the 
farmers spread their products on the ground and 
their children played about happily. 

A tiny boy, just learning to walk, toddled 



A TOWN THAT SELLS BARK 


95 



Ewing Galloway 

THE CROWDED MARKET PLACE IN LA PAZ 


across the path of a llama. Peter, afraid that the 
child might be stepped on, reached out and picked 
him up. The father smiled, showing gleaming 
white teeth, and invited Peter to help himself. 
Such wonderful fruit! Both Peter and Nancy 
were used to seeing oranges and lemons every¬ 
where they went in South America. Pineapples 
were common as well. But here were quinces and 
peaches and pears! In a basket were big bean 
pods which the man invited both Peter and Nancy 
to try. To their amazement the beans tasted like 
a delicately flavored fruit. 






96 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


The vegetables were every bit as interesting as 
the fruits. Frozen potatoes seemed to be a great 
favorite, and there were tiny pink potatoes, violet- 
colored potatoes, and black potatoes as well. 

Peter and Nancy looked up from the market 
display to see a train of donkeys loaded down with 
bundles of bark. 

“Fuel, I suppose,” guessed Peter, pointing to 
the bark. 

“Cinchona!” said the fruit vender. 

Peter and Nancy both looked so puzzled that the 
man darted out and pulled a piece of bark from 
a bundle on the side of a donkey. He gave a small 
piece to Peter and another strip to Nancy. He 
then gestured that they were to chew it. 

“Maybe it's like gum,” Peter guessed, “or slip¬ 
pery elm.” 

But it was very bitter. Peter and Nancy looked 
at each other and exclaimed in one voice, “Qui¬ 
nine!” Once when very small they had bitten the 
capsules of quinine which had been given them. 
The memory of that taste lingered. Uncle Lee 
had said that quinine was good to prevent as well 
as to cure fevers, and had promised both Peter 
and Nancy a good dose before they took their trip 
into the Amazon. 

He appeared presently on the scene to laugh at 
the puckered faces of his niece and nephew. 

“Does the cinchona bark grow on wild trees?” 
Nancy asked, “or are the trees grown on plan¬ 
tations?” 



A TOWN THAT SELLS BARK 


97 


“Some of them are cultivated, but most of them 
grow wild,” said Uncle Lee. “Look at those don¬ 
keys at the corner. They’re carrying coca leaves. 
Wait a minute. I’ll bring you a few.” 

The driver of the donkeys, a big strong Indian, 
invited Uncle Lee to help himself. 

“It’s from these leaves that cocaine is made,” 
Uncle Lee explained when Peter and Nancy ran 
toward him. 

They viewed the small leaves with interest. 

“Tooth-pulling medicine,” said Peter. 

“The Indians chew coca,” Uncle Lee said, “to 
make them forget cold and hard work. They add 
lime to it. Want to taste some?” 

The children, remembering the quinine, said, 
“No, thanks.” 



GOLD DISHES, SILVER SPOONS, AND 
TIN CUPS 


B ACK home school had started, but it was 
spring on the Bolivian plateau. The plowing 
was all finished, and the even furrows made by 
the old-fashioned plows would not be seeded until 
late in November. 

In the little train, behind the electric locomotive 
that had hauled them over a thousand feet out 
of the great bowl in which lay La Paz, sat the 
MacLarens contentedly munching coffee buns. 
The buns proved to be neither bread nor cake but 
better than either. A plump little Indian girl 
had come aboard the train with them at the first 
station. Her red cheeks and gracious smile would 
have enabled her to sell anything, but the buns 
were so light and so delicious that Uncle Lee had 
bought a double amount. As Peter said, the 
buns tasted of “sugar and spice and everything 
nice.” 

“Well,” Uncle Lee declared, as again they 
turned their attention to the scenery, “we’re in 
the richest mining region in the world. The 
Sorata range, that you see from the windows, 
has rich veins of gold and silver and of tin and 
copper, too.” 

“One of the Indians down in La Paz,” Peter 
said eagerly, “told me that there’s so much surface 


98 


GOLD DISHES, SILVER SPOONS, TIN CUPS 


99 



Courtesy Grace Line 

A HAPPY BOLIVIAN GIRL 


gold that they lay stones in a stream when it’s dry; 
and then when it rains, the water washes the gold 
down against the stones." 

“That's a tall tale, isn't it, Uncle Lee?" Nancy 
exclaimed. 

“No, it isn't." Uncle Lee laughed. “That was 
one of the Inca methods. It's akin to our hydraulic 
mining of today, using streams of water to wash 
away the dirt in order to get the gold." 

“I'd like to try placer mining," Peter said. 
“I've seen them do that. They put a lot of soil 
into a big bowl and dip water over it. Then they 





100 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 



Ewing Galloway 

PLACER MINING IN A BOLIVIAN STREAM 

pour off the dirt, and after a while you have a 
whole handful of gold in the bottom.” 

“Sometimes, 1 ” said Uncle Lee, still laughing. 

Several boys got on the train. In their lapels 
were rosettes of red, yellow, and green, the Bo¬ 
livian colors. They were returning from a fes¬ 
tival. Sturdy-looking fellows they were, capable 
of the work they did. From the car window it 
looked as though every bit of free soil had been 
tilled, up to the very top of the mountains. Flocks 
of llamas, sheep, mules, oxen, and even pigs wan¬ 
dered over what appeared to be grassless land. 
Soon, however, as the train climbed, vegetation 







GOLD DISHES, SILVER SPOONS, TIN CUPS 


101 


grew more plentiful until fields of barley and of 
alfalfa became common. 

Along the tracks were great piles of fuel, and, 
for the first time in their travels, Peter and 
Nancy realized that there was one country at least 
in South America that had a fuel problem—and 
this in spite of its mineral wealth. 

It was surely strange fuel, yareta and taqui 
and the tola shrub. Taqui, the most commonly 
used fuel in Bolivia, Peter and Nancy learned, 
was the dried droppings of the llama and much 
like the “buffalo chips” of the North American 
deserts. Tola, they learned, was a shrub growing 
high on the plateau. Yareta, a strange plant 
growing in big round masses somewhat like moss, 
made very hot fires because its roots were full 
of resin. 

There was dust everywhere, a reddish-yellow 
dust that covered the little mud huts and the 
animals alike. From every small village, how¬ 
ever, a spire rose above the roof-tops. The poorest 
peasants had helped to build the churches of 
Bolivia. 

There were few roads but many trails, and the 
hard-working Bolivian peasant had as his favorite 
beast of burden the llama. The llama, he claimed, 
could go greater distances than the camel, with 
very little food and water; and the llama had the 
advantage of the camel in being better natured 
and more capable of enduring high altitudes. 

At a small station Uncle Lee engaged a guide to 



102 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


take his party up into the Andes. Peter and 
Nancy were delighted with the docile donkeys 
that were given them to ride, and they were very 
much excited at the prospect of three llamas hired 
to carry the camp equipment. 

The first night brought them to a little moun¬ 
tain stream in the shadows of snow ranges which, 
for a few brief moments, had turned from red- 
gold to rose-pink only to fade white beneath the 
stars. It had become surprisingly cool, too, and 
Nancy was glad to crawl under the blankets in the 
tent in front of which the guide built a fire. 

Morning light showed the little stream tumbling 
pleasantly down among the rocks of the barren 
valley. Some time before noon Peter and Nancy 
began their attempts at placer mining. Nancy 
wanted to pet the llamas but was warned not to 
touch them as they were sometimes ugly. She 
wandered along the stream and was amazed by the 
time the camp dinner was ready, to find that she 
had accumulated quite a bit of gold dust. But 
Peter looked so self-conscious that she guessed 
what had happened. The others of the party who 
had been placer mining too, had given her their 
own gleanings. Such tiny specks! Such little 
nuggets! How much would it take to make a dish 
such as the Incas had used? And she wondered, 
could it be possible that the streets of the Island 
of the Sun in Lake Titicaca had once been paved 
with gold? 

The party continued on its way, following the 



GOLD DISHES, SILVER SPOONS, TIN CUPS 



Ewing Galloway 


A MODERN MINING CAMP IN THE MOUNTAINS 

trail to an old silver mine. The guide pointed out 
several veins of ore in the rocks. He explained 
that the Incas had used hammers and drills to 
break up the ore and that they had carried it out 
in sacks upon their backs like pack horses. 

Peter and Nancy peered down into several deep 
holes left by the silver miners. Peter even at¬ 
tempted to climb down one of the ladders, but it 
was too unstable for him to go far. 

That evening the guide told the story of how 
the richest silver mine in the world was discov¬ 
ered, the mine of Cerro de Pasco in Peru. 

“It was just such a night as this,” the guide 





104 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


began as he added fuel to the fire, “that a shep¬ 
herd wandering about found the air too cold for 
comfort. Although weary, he stopped to make a 
good fire. Then he fell asleep. When he woke up 
the next morning, he found shining beneath the 
ashes, pure silver of lovely sheen. The rock upon 
which he had built his fire had melted.” 

“And since that time,” Uncle Lee added, 
“enough silver has been hauled out of the Bolivian 
and Peruvian Andes to make a silver spoon for 
every boy and girl in the world.” 

The third day brought Uncle Lee’s party with 
their patient llamas to a deserted tin mine. Uncle 
Lee picked up pieces of rock here and there and 
showed it to Peter and Nancy. 

“Of course it’s the crude ore,” Uncle Lee ex¬ 
plained. 

“It looks a lot like silver,” Peter said. 

“A little tin goes a long way,” Nancy added. 
“Our teacher said that the tin cups we use in 
school are just tin-plated cups. Most tin cups are 
iron.” 

“You never hear much about tin mines,” Peter 
said as he poked about among the rocks. 

“Surely you know that Southern England has 
famous tin mines,” Uncle Lee spoke up; “so have 
Australia and other places. But the world needs 
quantities of tin and Bolivia and Peru help supply 
the need. Oruro is Bolivia’s headquarters for the 
tin trade, a dreary, cold city of little general 
interest.” 



GOLD DISHES, SILVER SPOONS, TIN CUPS 


105 



Courtesy Pan American Union 

A TIN-MINING COMMUNITY 

“If you wish to return to La Paz,” offered the 
guide, “I can secure an automobile for the young 
lady to ride in. You have not really seen the city. 
The Capitol and the Government Palace are there 
—the cathedral also. Perhaps in the Plaza Mu¬ 
rillo you may hear a concert on Sunday.” 

“Government Palace!” Peter exclaimed. “La 
Paz isn’t the capital of Bolivia. At least it isn’t 
in our geographies. Sucre is starred. Isn’t it, 
Nancy?” 

“It certainly is,” Nancy agreed. 

“La Paz,” insisted the guide, “is, nevertheless, 
the capital. And it is the world’s highest capital. 





106 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


It was in Sucre that General Sucre first officiated 
as president. In fact the supreme court is still 
there. Nowadays Bolivian presidents and officials 
prefer to live in La Paz—and so La Paz is the 
capital.” 

“Remember that!” Uncle Lee laughed good- 
naturedly. “La Paz is the capital. Pve never 
heard of an official date for the change, but the 
guide thinks he knows.” 



A CITY THAT CLIMBS UP HILL 


“ TUST how do you spell it?” asked Nancy. 

t) The monotonous trip along the Chilean 
coast with the constant roar of the airplane was 
making Peter drowsy. Jimmy Dustin had been 
waiting for them when they returned to Guaqui. 

“How do you spell what?” he asked with a 
start. 

“Valparaiso, the 'Vale of Paradise'!” Nancy 
answered, her tired eyes seeking something other 
than the drab, khaki color of the hills and the 
blinding blue of the Pacific. 

“Call it Valpo,” Peter advised lazily. “Valpo 
is just as good as Valparaiso. I guess this para¬ 
dise stuff is advertising. Uncle Lee said the city 
was destroyed twice by pirates, once by Spaniards, 
twice by fire, once by flood, and any number of 
times by earthquakes. Vale of Paradise!” 

“It must be a wonderful city,” Nancy insisted. 
“It's called 'the San Francisco of South Amer¬ 
ica'!” 

“Shows they appreciate us, anyway.” Peter 
brightened up. “Buenos Aires is 'the New York 
of South America,' and Rosario is 'the Chicago 
of South America.' Wonder they don't have a 
Punkinville of South America.” 

“Peter! Peter! There it is, now! Valparaiso! 
On your left, Peter. It is a Vale of Paradise, a 


107 


108 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 



Courtesy Grace Line 


A BEAUTIFUL GREEN CITY BUILT LIKE A CRESCENT 

beautiful green city built like a crescent. I know 
the streets will curve, too. Jimmy! How do people 
ever get up to those houses? Oh, it is like San 
Francisco, only it’s steeper.” 

Nancy was in an ecstacy of delight. Jimmy 
brought his plane down on the beach where it was 
immediately surrounded by cheerful, grinning 
Chileans. 

“It’s much easier to land by plane than by 
ship,” Jimmy said. “Your comparison of Valpo 
with San Francisco doesn't hold water, as har¬ 
bors go. San Francisco has one of the finest, safest 
inner harbors in the world. This harbor defies 
a breakwater and I've seen waves pile up eight 
feet high. Well, here we are!” 




A CITY THAT CLIMBS UP HILL 


109 


Jimmy and the MacLarens were helped by will¬ 
ing hands out of the cockpit. Immediately they 
were surrounded by a group of handsome fellows 
in uniform. These German-trained Chilean sol¬ 
diers were alert and proud. Before the little party 
had time to look about, they were asked to view 
the Chilean cruisers in the harbor and to enjoy a 
parade from the Chilean Naval Academy. Jimmy 
advised his friends to go ahead to their hotel while 
he arranged for the safekeeping of his plane. 
The semicircular streets on the water front were 
quite like streets in any city of the United States. 
There were banks and shops and hotels. The only 
difference they could see was that the buses and 
trams went in curves, and there were women 
motormen on the street cars; but Peter and Nancy 
were disappointed. 

“Might as well be home," grumbled Peter, as 
they traveled along on the car. “It doesn't even 
smell like South America." 

“The fine climate has attracted plenty of for¬ 
eigners," Uncle Lee put in, as he led his little 
charges toward the hotel. “You'll find plenty of 
British and Germans, with a good smattering of 
Americans. The Chileans are sometimes called 
‘ Yanquis,’ because they resemble the Yankee in 
doing business. By the way, you youngsters won't 
need an interpreter if you go out alone. Nearly 
everybody here speaks English quite as well as 
Spanish. This comes as near to being an Anglo- 
Saxon town as any you'll see in South America. 



110 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


It’s a shipping point for almost every product of 
Chile from nitrates to pottery.” 

“I see one thing going on that isn’t Yankee.” 

Peter pointed to the shopkeepers who were let¬ 
ting down the corrugated steel blinds and pad¬ 
locking them. 

“Everybody’s going home to lunch,” Uncle Lee 
explained. “From twelve to two all business 
places are closed—and again at five-thirty.” He 
called the attention of the children to a tall hand¬ 
some policeman in uniform directing traffic 
through a megaphone. 

“Well, here we are,” said Uncle Lee as they 
arrived at the hotel. “I’ll order lunch for Jimmy, 
too,” he added in his businesslike way. 

Peter and Nancy strolled off by themselves 
after lunch. Jimmy had gone back to his plane 
and Uncle Lee was talking with a Chilean in the 
rotunda of the hotel. Chile, they were saying, 
was the only strip of land on the continent of 
South America that had not been blessed with 
forests, grazing land and cereal land. But —and 
here the Chilean’s eyes had grown bright—Mother 
Nature had made compensations by giving to 
Chile her rich nitrate and guano deposits along 
with her copper and silver mines. 

“They’ll be talking all afternoon,” Peter 
guessed. “They won’t miss us. I’ve got plenty 
of pesos. No dollars down here!” 

At first nothing special happened. Peter and 
Nancy passed a girls’ school where there was a 



A CITY THAT CLIMBS UP HILL 


111 


roof garden. The girls waved their sewing gaily 
at the two children passing below. Many people 
rode along the streets on horseback, all looking 
very gay. Peter and Nancy boarded a street car 
which had a woman conductor and rode to the 
end of its route. 

Then, with the other passengers, they entered 
an ascensor , or elevator, which looked much like 
a little cage and was run by electricity. They 
found themselves let out on a side hill in front of 
a lovely stone house covered with purple bougain¬ 
villea. There was nothing to do but follow the 
narrow street which ended at a zigzag stairway. 
Up the stairs they climbed and followed other 
streets. Every few blocks they saw an ascensor 
held by a cable. There were lovely houses with 
little courts in the rear in which the children could 
catch glimpses of riotous flowers and a splashing 
fountain. The children walked on. Often, right 
next to beautiful houses, would appear hovels. 
Times without number Nancy and Peter crowded 
to one side of a wooden or concrete stair to let 
horses or donkeys or groups of pedestrians pass. 

Thus it happened that they met Enrique and 
his donkey, Valpo (named after Valparaiso). 

“Excuse heem, please.” Enrique’s flashing 
smile was delightful. 

“Where did you learn English?” Peter asked. 

“I learn the good Eenglish from the school 
meesionary,” the boy replied. “I think you are 
Yankees, maybe. Americans, perhaps?” 






Ewing Galloway 

PETER AND NANCY ADMIRED THE PURPLE 
BOUGAINVILLEA 



A CITY THAT CLIMBS UP HILL 


113 


Nancy patted the soft, docile little donkey, 
and he nosed her affectionately. From her pocket 
she took a few lumps of sugar that she had carried 
from the hotel. The donkey munched them greed¬ 
ily, gratitude shining from his eyes. 

Peter and Enrique seemed to strike up quite a 
friendship. “Come on, Nancy,” Peter cried sud¬ 
denly. “Enrique’s going to show us where he 
lives. He says he's a roto” 

“A what?” Nancy inquired. 

“The roto,” Enrique explained, “ees a worker 
on a farm or plantation. The roto ees not so very 
well off, Mees, but he ees happy fellow.” 

Up one flight of curving steps after another 
went Peter and Enrique, permitting Nancy to 
lag behind with the donkey. It was a queerly- 
built city, thought Nancy, sprawling all over the 
mountain slopes. There were broken triangles of 
houses set in patches of green. Between them 
would appear ugly, bare ravines. Yet each house, 
whether a beautiful mansion or a little shack built 
of tin cans, looked out upon the sea, whose blue¬ 
ness today was broken by whitecaps. 

Nancy found that her legs ached. The cobbled 
streets had given way to a sandy roadway. She 
stopped for a- moment to take off her shoes and 
shake out the tiny pebbles. By the time she had 
put her shoes on again, Peter and Enrique were 
nowhere in sight. Nancy felt rather weak in her 
knees. The little donkey looked at her anxiously, 
then started doggedly forward. 



114 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


“Wait!” commanded Nancy. “Don’t you run 
away from me, too!” 

The donkey cocked his head to one side as 
though he understood. He nosed Nancy again, but 
finding no more sugar, put his head down and 
plodded through the sand. 

“HI go with you, Valpo,” Nancy decided. “You 
must know where you’re going.” 

Presently Valpo began to trot, and then Nancy 
saw the strangest house she had ever beheld. It 
was close by a grove of orange trees and it was 
built of mud and tin hammered from gasoline 
cans. There were pieces of corrugated iron form¬ 
ing part of one wall, and the roofing of thatch 
was weighted down with broken tiles and stones. 
It looked much like a shack that Peter had built 
one summer down river. There was only one win¬ 
dow to be seen from the side of the road and one 
low door. 

The donkey trotted toward it, Nancy running 
behind him and calling, “Valpo! Valpo!” 

A pleasant-looking woman, who was probably 
a mixture of Spanish and Indian, gazed in sur¬ 
prise at the sight of Nancy running toward this 
humble dwelling. 

“Enrique!” she shouted to some one inside. 

It was Peter, however, who appeared in answer 
to her call. He was followed by Enrique. Peter’s 
face was red with embarrassment to think he had 
forgotten Nancy. 

“Come in and see the house,” he invited. “The 




Ewing Galloway 

/ 


ENRIQUE AND HIS DONKEY 




116 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


mother does not speak English like Enrique, but 
she is learning.” 

Such a plain little house! The floor was hard- 
packed mud. There were several boxes and a 
table in the main room and a boxlike couch in the 
other room. Enrique explained that most of the 
cooking was done out-of-doors. Toasted wheat 
flour made into cakes and boiled beans were the 
usual foods, though he had an orange for his 
guests. 

To Nancy’s amazement the mother peeled the 
orange and offered it to her guest on a fork. 
Nancy looked so distressed that Enrique said, 
“You eat round it, leaving core.” 

“I’ve already done it or I’d show you how,” 
Peter said, watching her. 

Nancy ate the delicious fruit, and when En¬ 
rique’s mother offered to take the fork, Nancy 
exclaimed, “Oh, I forgot to leave the core!” 

Enrique led his new-found friends down to an 
ascensor. 

“Now you slide downhill to your uncle?” En¬ 
rique asked. “He mees you?” 

Uncle Lee was still talking to the Chilean in 
the rotunda of the hotel. 

“Well, well,” he said, looking up quite uncon¬ 
cerned. “Have you children been seeing Valpo? 
Our friend here thinks that Valpo should be the 
capital of Chile instead of Santiago.” 

“I shall never forget Valpo,” promised Nancy. 

“Nor shall I!” added Peter enthusiastically. 



THE WORLD’S SOUTHERNMOST CITY 


S AILING southward on a beautiful passenger 
steamer from Valparaiso, was quite the most 
comfortable journey Peter and Nancy had enjoyed 
for ever so long. They were bound for the south¬ 
ernmost city in the world. 

What a picture the name Punta Arenas had 
always brought to their minds! In the old geog¬ 
raphy book in grandmother’s attic, Punta Arenas 
was pictured as an outpost consisting of a few 
thatched huts. Beside the huts stood the most 
miserable wretches in the world. They were 
naked, sad-looking Indians, some few wrapped in 
ragged garments and all with long, greasy hair. 
On the shore a whale had been drawn up to be 
skinned. The background of the picture was so 
dark that it gave the impression of little or no 
sunshine. So much for Punta Arenas! 

As for the Straits of Magellan, passing through 
them, so the old geography stated, was more often 
than not tempting fate. On rainy days Peter had 
played the part of Magellan, rocking in the old 
canoe that was stored in the attic, until he fell 
overboard on a comfortable quilt. During these 
journeys Nancy enthusiastically pretended to bail 
water when the waves threatened to swamp the 
little ship. 

Even after they had landed on the shores of 


117 


118 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


Punta Arenas, there were savages to consider, and 
Peter had often played both sailor and savage. 

“I hope Punta Arenas hasn't changed much." 
Peter stood beside Nancy at the rail enjoying the 
cold, damp breeze that swept up from the Ant¬ 
arctic. “Anyway, even if the city is different, 
the Straits of Magellan will be the same. What 
are you looking at?" 

Nancy’s head was bent over the rail. She could 
hear whales blowing. 

“The sea is red!" she cried. “And there’s a 
whale! See his shiny black body! Now he’s gone 
under again. There! He’s spouting!" 

Peter had seen whales before. He was more 
interested in the red sea. Then he remembered 
what Uncle Lee had told him. 

“I know!" he said. “It’s a lot of tiny animals 
that make that color. Whales feed on the stuff. 
Look, Nancy, there’s a seal. Two of them!" 

Silky brown necks appeared high out of the 
water, then disappeared again. 

“Let’s go see if Al’s still with us," Peter sug¬ 
gested. 

Peter led his sister around to the back of the 
deck. 

“Al?" Nancy asked, then understood quickly. 
“Oh, that albatross that has been following the 
ship for three days. I love him. He’s so big and 
fearless, and so handsome, with his whitish body 
and coal-black wings. An albatross means good 
luck!" 



THE WORLD’S SOUTHERNMOST CITY 


119 



“Of course A1 will bring us good luck,” Peter 
agreed. “And there's a condor! Look at the spread 
of his wings!” 

A cold wind blew, so cold and cutting that Peter 
and Nancy finally sought shelter in the warm 
salon where Uncle Lee was visiting with ship¬ 
mates. 

“My, what red cheeks!” he exclaimed. “Winter 
weather agrees with you two. That breeze from 
the glaciers of Patagonia is anything but gentle.” 

All night long the ship tossed. Nancy watched 
her coat swing from one side to the other. A 
stewardess had closed the port holes, but in the 





120 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 



tiwinff Ualloway 

IN THE STRAITS OP MAGELLAN 


dim light Nancy could see the greenish water 
sweeping by. She could not sleep. She did doze 
off at last toward morning. She awoke when 
Peter pounded on her door. 

“Guess what!” he yelled. “We’re in the Straits 
of Magellan and the storm’s over! It would be 
that way.” 

“Didn’t you have enough storm, Peter?” Nancy 
called back. 

“Surely,” Peter answered honestly, “only in the 
wrong place. I wanted it to be stormy in the 
Straits of Magellan. Anyway, it’s cold. Put on 
your warmest clothes, Uncle Lee says.” 

After enjoying a hearty breakfast Nancy went 
up on deck with Uncle Lee and Peter. The chan- 




THE WORLD’S SOUTHERNMOST CITY 


121 


nel was as calm as the water in the Panama Canal. 
The glaciers along the shores were beautiful with 
deep-green moss. Further inland rose wonderful 
forests that seemed to stretch up to the snowy 
peaks. The water looked cold, the shore looked 
cold, the sky looked cold. Instead of the tropical 
blue it was almost a shade of lavender. 

The ship wove in and out among grassy but 
rocky islands of strange shapes. 

By afternoon the hills looked less high, less 
rugged, and the channel looked wider. Nancy had 
a feeling that Peter might be disappointed when 
she heard a traveler say to Uncle Lee, “Punta 
Arenas is a boom town. Why, man, when I was 
there in 1912 there weren’t more than ten thou¬ 
sand inhabitants. That population’s more than 
tripled. The town’s modern, I tell you, and it’s 
growing fast in spite of everything.” 

Nancy tried to break the news gently to Peter. 

“Punta Arenas isn’t just a home for whalers 
any more, Peter,” she announced when she found 
Peter playing shuffleboard on deck. 

“I know,” he agreed. “They ship out wool and 
frozen meat. This fellow I’m playing with has a 
father who buys stuff there.” 

It was Peter’s turn to play and he gave his disk 
a hearty shove. 

The boat whistled for a landing. The town 
came in view, a town of wide streets, of stone 
office buildings, and of electric lights. Nancy 
caught sight of a plaza near the wharf. It might 



122 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 



Publishers Photo Service 
PETER ADMIRED THE CATHEDRAL 


have been a plaza in any of the tropical cities they 
had visited except that there were pine trees grow¬ 
ing where palm trees usually grew. 

The MacLarens went ashore. Peter stood for 
a moment in front of the bronze statue of Ferdi¬ 
nand Magellan in the plaza. 

“Tall tales, eh?” he accused the hero of his 
geography reader. 

“Not exactly.” Uncle Lee defended the navi¬ 
gator warmly. “Magellan’s principal hard luck 
was in finding the entrance to the straits. And 
you must remember, young man, that he did 
not come well-stocked with food supplies, proper 
clothes, and medical aid. Besides, the citizens of 
Punta Arenas and the surrounding country were 
not the friendly natives of today. In Magellan’s 
time you couldn’t buy picture post cards to send 
home.” 

Peter did not look particularly happy. He 
admired the cathedral facing the plaza with the 








THE WORLD’S SOUTHERNMOST CITY 


123 


rest, and he walked along the pleasant streets 
breathing in the clean, cold air with some little 
satisfaction. 

“I know what will please Peter,” Nancy ex¬ 
claimed. “The museum! A guide said there was 
one behind the cathedral.” 

Peter's spirits lifted. The museum housed 
many Indian relics and stuffed animals. But it 
was perfectly modern in that it was well heated, 
well lighted, and carefully dusted. 

On the following morning Peter and Nancy 
walked to the edge of the town. The air was 
sparklingly clear. The sun made the snow gleam 
with millions of diamonds. Frost, like immense 
flowers or in the form of delicate vines, hung down 
from all the trees. The moss was like a deep, 
deep cushion in the forest. In fact Uncle Lee had 
said they'd find it waist-deep. Ferns were abun¬ 
dant and there were a number of little flowers. 

Back into the town and down to the harbor ran 
Peter and Nancy. There were English and Ger¬ 
man ships in port, coaling up, and there was one 
steamer from New Zealand unloading supplies. 

“What's there across the straits from Punta 
Arenas?” Peter asked an Englishman who was 
checking freight. 

“Tierra del Fuego, son,” the man replied. 
“There are gold ledges in some parts near the 
shore. Farther inland it isn't as bleak as it looks. 
There are wonderful beaches and magnolia trees, 
as well as the usual evergreens. Grass is green 



124 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


the year round and you'll find the sweetest straw¬ 
berries you've ever tasted." 

“Thought they ate nothing but blubber down 
here," Peter remarked. 

“Better not let those sheep farmers hear you 
say that," the Englishman warned. “They raise 
fine garden truck, peas, cabbage, turnips, and 
celery—anything you could ask for." 

“You aren't joking?" Peter asked. 

“Why should I joke?" asked the Englishman 
blithely. “Is there something funny about peas 
and celery?" 

“No, of course not," Peter agreed. 

Peter and Nancy returned to the hotel, Peter's 
face quite as sunny as Nancy's. 

Uncle Lee was standing at the desk. 

“Of course you could have gone around Cape 
Horn," the proprietor was saying. “But all your 
nephew would have gotten out of it would have 
been seasickness. Sorry he's disappointed. We're 
rather proud of Punta Arenas." 

Peter overheard. 

“I've changed my mind," he declared. “I think 
Punta Arenas and all the land and water around 
it were worth discovering." 

“Peter feels pretty happy after all about Ma¬ 
gellan," said Nancy. 



A PINK WHITE HOUSE IN A CITY 
OF CHEER 


I T DOESN'T look like silver!" Nancy observed, 
straining her eyes for a better view of the 
Plata River. “It looks more like mud." 

Peter, beside his sister at the rail, muttered. 
“Now you know how I felt about the Straits of 
Magellan. Anyway, the Spaniards didn't name 
this river for its appearance. They called it a 
River of Silver because they thought it would lead 
them into the silver mines of Peru. And were 
they far off!" 

"It is a River of Silver." Uncle Lee was at 
Nancy's side, as the steamer found its way from 
one large concrete basin into another. “Look at 
those freighters! And I'll venture to say that the 
flags flying from the mastheads of steamers at 
the dock represent almost every country on the 
globe. And when you get into Buenos Aires, 
youngsters, you'll realize that it took a whole river 
of silver to build it. What do you suppose Buenos 
Aires was like a hundred years ago?" 

“Maybe like I expected Punta Arenas to be," 
Peter guessed. 

“Exactly," Uncle Lee agreed. “A city of shacks 
without a pavement or a sewer; and you may be 
sure that the inhabitants had never heard of 
statuary or Paris fashions. Well, here we are." 


125 


126 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


“Oh, it’s lovely.” Nancy had forgotten the 
muddy river as the boat docked. “There isn’t even 
a tumble-down warehouse. I see a park beyond 
those tracks and lights coming on all over the city! 
The Paris of South America’!” 

“The New York of South America’!” Peter 
corrected. “Uncle Lee, aren’t those electric cranes 
unloading the ships?” 

“Yes.” Uncle Lee was proud of Peter’s knowl¬ 
edge. “All cargoes are loaded directly into freight 
cars and sent inland.” 

It was exciting to land in Buenos Aires with 
so many prosperous-looking, well-dressed people 
coming to meet the boat. Nancy thought, “It is 
like Paris,” but she did not say so aloud. Uncle 
Lee put Peter and Nancy into a taxi and as he 
took the seat beside Nancy, he said to the driver, 
“Drive past the Casa Rosada on the way to the 
Plaza.” 

There was only a park between the tracks down 
at the wharves and the Casa Rosada, or Presi¬ 
dential Mansion. It was a large, ornate house, 
pink in color. Nancy stared and stared. She liked 
it very much, for its color suggested roses and 
party dresses and pink frosting on birthday cakes. 

The Plaza de Mayo was wide and sunny, and it 
was bordered by hotels and banks and a public 
building. Peter and Nancy were amazed at the 
sight of the cathedral. 

“Now you would think we were in Paris,” 
Nancy declared. 






A PINK WHITE HOUSE IN A CITY OF CHEER 127 


THE PINK WHITE HOUSE 

“The cathedral is copied after the Madeleine in 
Paris !” Peter decided. 

“True,” said Uncle Lee. “Inside, if you wish, 
you may view the bones of San Martin, who freed 
this part of the country from Spanish rule. By 
the way, there’s a lovely playground and park 
here named after him. Here’s our hotel.” 

Nancy tugged at Uncle Lee’s coat. 

“Aren’t you mistaken, Uncle?” she asked. “It 
looks more like a palace.” 

Uncle Lee’s laughter was good to hear. 

“You’ll find,” he said, “that everything in 
Buenos Aires is in keeping with the pink White 
House. After dinner we’ll go for a drive along one 









128 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


of the most beautiful avenues in the world, the 

Avenida de Mayo” 

This was fairyland, Nancy decided. Peter, too, 
was impressed by the luxury. The three Mac- 
Larens, driving along the Avenida, felt as though 
they were riding in a triumphal procession. The 
street itself was wide, and it appeared to be even 
wider because the sidewalks were so broad. All 
along the center stood rows of shade trees. The 
sidewalks swarmed with cheerful people enjoying 
themselves at the open-air cafes. Beyond, where 
the brilliant lights still twinkled, the MacLarens 
caught glimpses of domes, of turrets, and of flow¬ 
ered balconies. Although it was winter at home 
it was summer in the Argentine. 

“Anyway, New York has Buenos Aires beat 
when it comes to skyscrapers,” Peter boasted. “I 
don’t see a single one.” 

“There’s plenty of room here,” Uncle Lee ex¬ 
plained. “No necessity for building skyscrapers.” 

Peter, who had been peering ahead, asked sud¬ 
denly, “Uncle Lee, what is that?” 

“What is what?” asked Uncle Lee. 

“That big dome!” Peter exclaimed. “That big, 
big dome ahead! I think it is the the highest dome 
I ever saw. But it looks flimsy.” 

“It’s gorgeous!” breathed Nancy. “Why, it’s 
higher than our Capitol dome at Washington.” 

“It’s the Argentine Capitol, youngsters,” Uncle 
Lee explained. “If you’re impressed now, wait 
until you ascend the marble stairs inside.” 



A PINK WHITE HOUSE IN A CITY OF CHEER 129 


“Uncle Lee, are you making fun of things ?” 
Nancy asked soberly. “Oh, the street ends here. 
Did you ever, ever see such a wonderful park! 
Peter, look at that monument in the center. I 
suppose I should say those monuments. Pd like 
to see it in the sunlight, with all those birds and 
cupids and maidens! Look at the one pouring from 
the Horn of Plenty! There’s so much to look at!” 

“There’s much to everything in Buenos Aires,” 
Peter cried. “I like the policemen best. They’re 
dressed like generals.” 

The parade of shiny cars along the street 
seemed to have no end. The promenade of well- 
dressed people on the sidewalks reached as far 
as the eye could see. Uncle Lee directed the driver 
to turn down to the Avenida Leandro Alem on the 
water front. Here were smaller, shabbier shops 
that catered only to seamen’s needs. The many 
signs in the windows, Uncle Lee explained, indi¬ 
cated bargain sales. 

“I’d like to see the subway.” Peter spoke up. 

“I’d like to walk along the Calle Florida and 
look in the windows,” Nancy cried. “I want to 
see the Paris fashions six months before they 
reach New York.” 

“Young lady, are we geographers or fashion- 
ists?” inquired Uncle Lee. 

“Well, the geography has something to do with 
it.” Nancy held to her point. “The social season 
begins six months earlier on account of the 
weather. Besides, the climate and the soil account 



130 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


for the richness of the city, so that people can 
afford Paris clothes.” 

“Well spoken.” Uncle Lee laughed. “I’ll let 
Peter escort you tomorrow. There is no danger. 
Only pedestrians are allowed on the Calle Florida 
during the afternoon shopping hours.” 

“I don’t want to go shopping with all those 
women,” Peter objected. 

“You won’t be the only man or boy by any 
means,” Uncle Lee promised. “You go with Nancy 
and I’ll see that you visit one of the big newspaper 
offices afterward.” 

Peter had to be contented. But on the following 
afternoon, he was so impatient over the window¬ 
shopping that Nancy agreed to walk about the 
city with him. 

“We can just follow the public buildings,” Peter 
suggested, “then we sha’n’t get lost.” 

Up one pleasant street after another Peter and 
Nancy walked. So used had they become to back¬ 
grounds of rugged mountains or snowy volcanoes 
that they naturally raised their eyes. All they 
saw was blue sky. Buenos Aires had no natural 
beauty, but the Argentines had surely built won¬ 
derful parks, marvelous mansions, and impressive 
public buildings to make up for the lack of 
scenery. 

Before a gorgeous, two-story building Peter 
paused. It had turrets and balconies and fancy 
wrought-iron fences. Nancy fairly gasped at the 
luxurious flowers. 






Courtesy Grace Line 

BUENOS AIRES, THE BEAUTIFUL 





132 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


“Buenos Aires is the only place we’ve visited,” 
she remarked, “where we can see both pine trees 
and palm trees at one and the same time. 0 
Peter, let’s go in here and see the fountain close 
up!” 

“All right,” agreed Peter. “We’ll follow that 
man.” 

A well-dressed gentleman carrying a walking 
stick swung in through the gate. Close behind 
him trotted Peter and Nancy. He skirted around 
the flowery path toward a portico smothered with 
roses. While waiting for someone to open the 
door, he turned to face the court. An exclamation 
of amazement escaped him. His dark eyes shone 
excitedly and his little black mustache worked up 
and down as he talked. He waved his hands and 
motioned with his cane. Nancy would have re¬ 
treated, but Peter explained politely that he and 
his sister wanted to visit the ornate building be¬ 
fore them. 

“We’re Americans!” Peter declared, at which 
the gentleman beamed expansively. 

“Oh, Americans!” he cried. “Why did you not 
say so in the first place? You want to visit this 
building, eh? I feel highly complimented. It is 
my home.” 

“Your home!” Peter and Nancy exclaimed in 
one breath. 

They began to back away, but the gentleman 
cried, “Come with me. I can’t let my visitors 
go like this. It is tea time. Please stay.” 



A PINK WHITE HOUSE IN A CITY OF CHEER 


133 


Peter and Nancy, embarrassed but delighted, 
too, accepted the courteous invitation. 

Uncle Lee was waiting in the small reception 
room of their suite at the Plaza when the children 
returned. 

“Well, how were the Paris fashions ?" he in¬ 
quired gaily. 

“We didn't spend much time looking at them," 
Nancy confessed. “Peter took me out to see the 
city." 

“Well, ril take you both to see the biggest news¬ 
paper in Buenos Aires," Uncle Lee declared 
briskly. “It's called La Prensa. We'll have to 
hurry or we won't be in time for tea. I've an 
appointment there." 

Nancy and Peter gave each other a bright, 
understanding glance. 

The great newspaper was housed on the won¬ 
derful Avenida de Mayo in a building quite in 
keeping with the beauty of the street. 

From the basement, where Peter showed great 
interest in the presses, the MacLarens were es¬ 
corted to the first floor. Here they watched the 
free clinic where doctors and dentists, paid by the 
newspaper, gave advice and aid to all who needed 
them. On the third floor were the editors and the 
happiest-looking reporters Peter and Nancy had 
ever seen. The fourth floor boasted reception and 
banquet rooms and on the fifth were the photo¬ 
graphic studios. 

Uncle Lee's friend was waiting in a small, 



134 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


beautifully furnished office. He rose graciously 
from behind a mahogany desk. The men shook 
hands. 

“I brought Peter and Nancy with me as you 
suggested,” Uncle Lee announced. “They like 
tea.” 

Peter and Nancy stared unbelieving. Before 
them stood their host of the afternoon. He winked 
at them comically. 

“Of course they like tea,” he declared, “espe¬ 
cially if it’s served with frosted cakes!” 

Back at the hotel once more the MacLarens 
talked over the events of the day. Peter agreed 
enthusiastically with Nancy when she said that 
she thought the pink White House best expressed 
the cheerful, happy spirit of Buenos Aires. 



THE WISE OWLS OF THE PAMPAS 


F LAT cow country with wire fences running 
for miles in one direction, and only the sight 
of distant windmills against the sky, to break the 
monotony! The train sped along its dusty road¬ 
bed. It was a luxurious, shining train, carrying 
comfortable sleepers and a delightful dining car. 
Peter and Nancy stared out at the rich prairie. 
"Why is it called the pampaV' asked Nancy. 
"Pampa is the Indian name for plain,” Peter 
offered. "Do you know how far it extends? From 
the Atlantic to the Andes! A great deal of it is 
rich grassland with herds of cattle and sheep graz¬ 
ing on it! No wonder everybody’s rich!” 

Uncle Lee slid into a seat facing the children. 
"Four hundred years ago,” he said, speaking 
slowly, "only Indians lived on the pampas. Most 
of the wealth, to begin with, was brought in— 
cattle and horses and seeds of different kinds. 
Even many of the weeds arrived in the same way. 
It is said that the thistle came to Argentina in 
the long hair of army mules. Seeds dropped from 
fruits brought over on ships often did better in 
the New World than in the Old. Corn surely 
grows bountifully here.” 

"Look, purple flowers!” Nancy exclaimed. 
"Alfalfa,” Peter pronounced. "That wasn’t 
native; was it, Uncle Lee?” 


135 


136 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


“No,” Uncle Lee answered. “But alfalfa is one 
of the reasons for the richness of the country. 
Wire fence and windmills from Chicago have 
helped wonderfully, too.” 

“Why wire fence?” Peter inquired. “So the 
little owls will have a place to sit? They’re on 
every post. I never in my life saw so many.” 

Uncle Lee laughed. 

“The wire fence gave a man a sense of home 
ownership,” he answered. “Before the wire fence 
was used, the average Argentine claimed what¬ 
ever he could take in the form of land or cattle.” 

“And the windmills?” Nancy inquired. 

“The windmills solved the problem of watering 
stock. Before the windmills became common, 
much stock died of thirst. Dust storms are often 
very severe on the pampas. They must be reck¬ 
oned with. The dry seasons would cause suffer¬ 
ing alike to man and beast if no way were provided 
for a water supply. Now you can see windmills 
all over the pampas. They supply the drinking 
water and the water for sprinkling the lawns. 

“We get off at the next station,” Uncle Lee 
added. “An old gaucho is going to meet us with 
a car and take us to one of the finest estancias 
or ranches in Argentina. It belongs to an English¬ 
man by the name of Rolfe. I met him at the 
Jockey Club in Buenos Aires while you young¬ 
sters were out window-shopping.” 

There was no mistaking the servant who had 
been sent to meet the MacLarens and escort them 



THE WISE OWLS OF THE PAMPAS 


13 7 


to the estancia. He was so fierce and big and old, 
and his skin was burned to the color of leather. 
He wore a poncho and Turkish-looking trousers 
with high boots, and he walked with the rolling 
gait of a man who has been used to riding horses. 

“Mr. Rolfe thought you might enjoy riding in 
one of the high-wheeled wagons instead of in a 
modern car,” the gaucho said, swinging his cap 
low in front of Nancy. 

Peter and Nancy were delighted. The wagon 
stood outside the station with three yoke of oxen. 
The wheels were fully ten feet high and the gaucho 
explained that they were very satisfactory either 
when the dust was deep or the road muddy. 

They were about to climb up over the hub of 
the front wheel, when they heard a laugh from 
near the station platform. A pleasant, ruddy¬ 
faced Englishman, seated in a big car called out, 
“Just wanted you to see this mode of locomotion. 
But we'll get home faster in my car.” 

Peter was plainly disappointed, but the gaucho 
promised to show him how to make boleadoras as 
well as lassos out of cowhide, as soon as they 
arrived at the ranch. Peter lingered long enough 
to learn that a lasso was simply a running noose, 
but a boleadora, or a bold as it is frequently 
called, was a Y form with weights attached to 
the three ends. When thrown hard it would wrap 
itself about the legs of an animal. The gaucho 
would show Peter how it worked. 

The car moved swiftly along the dusty road. 



138 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


Peter and Nancy saw owls everywhere as they 
rode along, and when they entered the drive into 
the vast estate, the owls appeared to be turning 
their heads all the way around to watch these 
strange visitors. 

The house and grounds were truly magnificent. 
It was like a feudal estate of the Middle Ages, 
only much more comfortable. The house was im¬ 
mense. It was set in the center of a great park, 
with formal flower gardens and an outdoor swim¬ 
ming pool in the rear. There were servants' 
homes, blacksmith shops, supply stores, corrals, 
barns, and coops of all sorts as well as a very 
modern dairy. Over a hundred men worked on 
the estate the year round, and there were always, 
as Mr. Rolfe said, “the swallows" besides. 

“What are 'swallows'?" Nancy inquired as 
they strolled along a flowery path. 

“The seasonal workers," Mr. Rolfe explained. 
“Some of them come from Europe for a few 
months, then return to spend their pay." 

The house was as lovely as a palace and much 
more comfortable than most palaces. There were 
priceless paintings on the walls and priceless rugs 
on the floors, but all the rooms were so light and 
sunny and charming that Peter and Nancy felt 
quite at home. The servants seemed to take delight 
in waiting upon Mr. Rolfe's young guests. 

Peter was impatient to be with the old gaucho 
and he soon disappeared in the direction of the 
corrals. Nancy snuggled down in a chair with a 





THE WISE OWLS OF THE PAMPAS 


139 



Ewing Galloway 


WHITE-FACED CATTLE ON THE ARGENTINE PAMPAS 

tall glass of iced orange juice and listened to Uncle 
Lee and Mr. Rolfe. She learned that the reason 
for the poor roads was that the pampas had no 
rock or pebbles for road making. She learned that 
the wool came from the state of Patagonia and 
the timber from the Chaco or timber belt. 

After lunch Mr. Rolfe ordered saddle horses 
brought up to the house. Peter and Nancy rode 
gentle brown mares down to the big row of poplar 
and eucalyptus trees that served as a windbreak 
for the house. They rode for miles that after¬ 
noon to see white-faced cattle by thousands and 
to view great herds of hogs deep in alfalfa fields. 
The view was always the same, miles and miles 
and miles of grassland. It would have seemed 
almost tiresome if it had not been for the little 
owls sitting on the posts. They looked so soft and 
so cunning that both Peter and Nancy longed to 
have a couple of them for pets. 

“How much farther does the estancia extend, 
Mr. Rolfe?” Nancy asked after several hours. 




140 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


“It's almost a day's ride," he explained. “Of 
course I don't manage it myself, but have a super¬ 
intendent and foreman. It's really like running 
a number of different farms." 

“Where do the children go to school?" Nancy 
asked. 

“Oh, in Buenos Aires or abroad," Mr. Rolfe 
answered. “A great many Argentines are in Paris 
and a number are in America. By the way, it was 
an American, William Wheelright, who planned 
the first really important railway over the 
pampas. The railway has speeded up the business 
of shipping wheat and cattle as well as the ship¬ 
ping of oil, wool and mutton." 

“It seems to me," put in Peter, “that life on an 
estancia must be great fun. That's why the owls 
stay, I suppose. They're said to be wise birds." 

“The owls know our problems, too," Mr. Rolfe 
said with a twinkle in his eye. “The biggest prob¬ 
lem is the locust. Have you ever seen a field after 
locusts have flown over it?" 

“I hardly think Peter and Nancy have," Uncle 
Lee interrupted, “but I saw locusts in North Da¬ 
kota one year. They ate even curtains and rugs 
and the horses' harnesses!" 

“They leave not a blade of grass," Mr. Rolfe 
said soberly, “and they come seemingly out of 
nowhere and depart as strangely." 

Peter and Nancy looked very sober. 

“Then," added Mr. Rolfe, “those same wise owls 
have seen terrific hailstorms that beat our best 



THE WISE OWLS OF THE PAMPAS 


141 



Ewing Galloway 

“THAT’S NOT A TRUE OSTRICH BUT A RHEA” 

crops to pieces. And we also have the jaguars and 
pumas to reckon with. The early pampas did not 
know them, but they moved here from the Andes 
when we began to breed cattle.” 

“Look!” Nancy cried. “Isn’t that an ostrich?” 

An ungainly bird was running across a plowed 
field where birds were picking at grubs. 

“That’s not a true ostrich but a rhea,” Mr. 
Rolfe explained. “Its feathers are used mostly for 
brushes.” 

The MacLarens rode back to the big house in 
time for a plunge in the pool before dinner. Peter 
and Nancy took time before sunset to walk down 
to the first fence. Three little owls that appeared 






142 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 



Ewing Galloway 

THE LITTLE OWLS NEVER BLINKED NOR CHANGED 
THEIR EXPRESSION 

to be looking the other way, turned their strangely 
solemn gaze around to the children without any 
apparent effort. They looked so funny that Peter 
and Nancy began to laugh. The little owls never 
blinked nor changed their expression. They were 
like the pampas, ever the same. 






I SEE A MOUNTAIN’ 


U NCLE LEE had hurried Peter and Nancy 
onto the big river steamer at Buenos Aires 
without much explanation. 

“Wake up, you sleepy heads,” he commanded 
as they slid wearily into deck chairs. “Here’s a 
puzzle that may amuse you. Name the smallest 
republic in South America. It is the only country 
in South America, I may say, that has no tropical 
region and whose climate is just about perfect 
the year around. It’s the best-watered country 
in the world and boasts only one real industry. 
If you haven’t guessed by this time I might add 
that a large percentage of its population lives in 
its capital city and it has a second city known as 
the world’s greatest kitchen!” 

“It’s either Uruguay or Paraguay,” Peter 
guessed. 

“I always get them mixed up,” Nancy com¬ 
plained. 

Uncle Lee gave such an exclamation of disap¬ 
proval that Peter and Nancy both sat straight up 
very wide-awake. 

“There’s no resemblance between Uruguay and 
Paraguay,” he cried. “No resemblance whatso¬ 
ever! They’re alike in nothing except in the last 
syllable of their names.” 

“Of course we’re closer to Uruguay,” Peter 


143 


144 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


offered. “When we were on our way to Buenos 
Aires on the coast boat, I thought I saw a city.” 

“I know I saw one in the distance.” Nancy 
spoke brightly. “It had domes and towers, and 
it looked like a mirage. It must have been a city 
in Uruguay. I know now. Montevideo! Mr. Rolfe 
said he often visited there in the summer because 
the beach was so lovely. Remember, Peter? He 
showed us some pictures. Uncle, are we bound 
for Montevideo?” 

“We are, sleepy heads!” Uncle Lee settled back 
again. “IPs only about a hundred miles from 
Buenos Aires, but you’ll find it quite different— 
very restful, though it is the capital of Uruguay.” 

A steward in a white coat approached with a 
tray of steaming cups. Peter and Nancy, who 
had missed breakfast, each accepted a cup grate¬ 
fully. 

“It’s beef tea!” Peter exclaimed. “I haven’t 
had beef tea since I was sick with the mumps.” 

“Which reminds me—” Nancy sat forward. 
“Uncle Lee, what were you saying about a city 
that was known as the world’s greatest kitchen?” 

“Fray Bentos,” Uncle Lee replied. “More beef 
tea and consomme are made there than any other 
place in the world.” 

“Every time I think of consomme, I think of 
Negro waiters,” Peter declared. “I suppose Uru¬ 
guay is full of Negroes.” 

“That’s where you’re mistaken, Peter,” Uncle 
Lee corrected. “The Uruguayans are mostly all 



7 SEE A MOUNTAIN’ 


145 


white people. They came originally from Italy 
and Spain and didn't mix with the natives. Then, 
too, there have been immigrants from France and 
Germany and Switzerland." 

The country, as the steamer plowed its way up 
the Plata River, looked to be quite as low and flat 
as the Argentine. In fact it was just a continua¬ 
tion of the Argentine. Then the city came into 
view, with the five-hundred-foot hill beside it. 

“I see a mountain!" yelled Peter. “At least it 
looks like a mountain, after all the prairie we've 
seen." 

“That's where the city got its name." Uncle 
Lee was delighted at the coincidence. “A lookout 
once cried, ‘Monte vid'eu!' or ‘I see a mountain!' 
and the name stuck. That, Peter, is the only hill 
on a thousand miles of river." 

The rather pleasant bay was in the shape of a 
horseshoe. The MacLarens went ashore and drove 
uptown in a cab along streets that appeared quite 
as modern as those in Buenos Aires. Electric 
lights, tram cars, Parisian shops, and palm-shaded 
plazas! The buildings, however, were nearly all 
Spanish and not nearly so ornate. Again Peter 
and Nancy beheld old-fashioned grilled windows 
and little, half-hidden patios. 

While Montevideo was not nearly so spectacular 
as Buenos Aires, it was quite as pleasant; and the 
cheerful citizens one met everywhere were a joy 
to the tourists. The hill with its lighthouse on 
top constantly drew the attention of Peter and 



146 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 



Ewing Galloway 


MONTEVIDEO WAS QUITE AS PLEASANT AS 
BUENOS AIRES 

Nancy, and they promised themselves that they 
would climb it some day. 

They were becoming used to plazas or parks in 
the center of South American cities. Facing one 
plaza at Montevideo was the handsome Solis 
Theater, so immense that it could house the citi¬ 
zens of a small town back home. Its beautiful 
columns were but a promise of the beauty within, 
and the MacLarens realized that they were in a 
music-loving community. Many of the citizens 
were fine musical critics as well as performers. 

Peter, it was, who led Uncle Lee and Nancy 
over to another plaza that had attracted his atten¬ 
tion. Here stood the new Legislative Palace, built 
almost entirely of marble and looking very im¬ 
pressive. 



7 SEE A MOUNTAIN’ 


147 



Courtesy The Pan American Union 


THE NEW LEGISLATIVE PALACE AT MONTEVIDEO 

“Marble’s beautiful,” Nancy said, “but it’s 
cold.” 

The day was not very sunny, and she shivered. 
She was happy when Uncle Lee put her into a taxi 
with Peter and climbed in beside them. 

“We’re to have tea with one of my editor 
friends,” Uncle Lee explained. “He has a beauti¬ 
ful home. From the outside it may look to be 
rather gloomy. But you’ll find the warmth of 
hospitality within.” 

The house was delightful. Nancy sat very prop¬ 
erly with her feet on the floor. There were several 
small rugs scattered about, but none beneath 












148 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


Nancy’s chair. The floor was very cold indeed, 
being made of little pieces of marble fitted to¬ 
gether in a mosaic. Peter found a corner chair 
beside a bookcase full of wonderful books. He 
picked out one for its pictures, but found he could 
not read a word. The book was in Spanish. 

Uncle Lee and his friend talked and talked. 
Nancy sat as still as she could and shivered. Pres¬ 
ently the mistress of the house came in and seemed 
to understand the situation instantly. She spoke 
in excited Spanish. In a few moments Nancy was 
wrapped in a warm cashmere shawl that smelled 
of rose petals. A hot water bottle was at her feet 
and she was sipping hot chocolate from a delicate 
china cup. Such comfort and hospitality! Warmth 
flowed all through her. 

Peter disdained a hot-water bottle for his feet, 
but he gratefully accepted some hot chocolate. 
Nancy’s hostess sat beside her guests, her own 
dainty feet on a warm pad. In her expressive 
way and with the help of Uncle Lee as interpreter 
she explained that it was so seldom cold in Uru¬ 
guay that furnaces were not needed. 

As Nancy sniffed gratefully at the shawl, the 
hostess rose and called a car. She would take 
her small guest on a little surprise trip. They 
would leave the men at home to talk. Peter begged 
to remain with the family dog and to romp with 
him. 

The sun had come out again. The driver took 
his passengers along the snowy white beaches and 



‘I SEE A MOUNTAIN’ 


149 



Publishers Photo Service 

ONE OF THE FAMOUS BEACHES IN MONTEVIDEO 

past the beautiful race course. Nancy was po¬ 
litely interested in everything, but when she 
caught a glimpse of the Prado , a beautiful park, 
her face lighted up with real joy. Her hostess 
alighted and motioned for her to close her eyes. 
Then she led her along by the hand. 

“I can smell them!” Nancy cried even before 
she opened her eyes. 

Then at last she was allowed to look about. 
Roses, roses, everywhere! The famous rose gar¬ 
dens of Montevideo, gorgeous in color, exquisite 
in texture, and delightful in odor. Nancy did not 
need to know how to speak Spanish to express 
her delight. 







150 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


Uncle Lee was still in earnest conversation with 
his host. Peter, seated on the floor beside the dog, 
was listening when Nancy returned. They soon 
left for their hotel. There Uncle Lee explained to 
the children that Uruguay for a long time had 
been a buffer nation between the Argentine and 
Brazil. Both claimed it. Both wanted it. Then 
too, there were quarrels within Uruguay itself, 
the Blancos or Whites against the Colorados or 
Reds. But peace at last was making Uruguay a 
delightful country. Nancy saw in her mind’s eye, 
not a picture of reds and whites quarreling, but 
of reds and whites blending in a beautiful rose 
garden. 



A GREEN LEAF WITH SILVER VEINS 


T HE plane in which Peter and Nancy rode with 
Uncle Lee and a pilot, rose and circled above 
Montevideo as steadily and as joyfully as a bird. 
For days the MacLarens had planned the trip 
while sight-seeing in Montevideo. Now it had 
become a reality. They were seeing Uruguay from 
the air. 

The muddy Rio de la Plata down below looked 
like an immense pond. The city itself with its 
substantial buildings and its attractive cerro , or 
hill, receded rapidly. The sky was blue and sunny, 
and the rivers farther north looked almost the 
color of the sky, only darker. The pilot nosed the 
plane upward, higher and higher. It was like 
climbing a steep hill. For a moment Peter and 
Nancy, seated behind the pilot with their safety 
belts well fastened, wondered whether or not he 
was going to attempt stunt flying. But evidently 
he had no such intentions. The path of the plane 
straightened out and headed due north. Then the 
MacLarens started a shouting conversation, for 
the noise of the plane was so great they could 
not talk in ordinary tones. 

“Now!” cried Uncle Lee triumphantly, “look 
down! I want you to have a view of Uruguay 
before we descend lower.” 

Peter and Nancy stared at the almost solid 


151 


152 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 



Publishers Photo Service 

FLOCK OF SHEEP ON A URUGUAY ESTATE 

green with fine lines of silver running all through 
it. 

“Uruguay looks like a leaf with silver veins,” 
Nancy exclaimed. 

“If those silver veins are rivers,” Peter rea¬ 
soned, “it certainly is the best-watered country 
in the world.” 

“They’re rivers, all right,” Uncle Lee said. 
“And there is some of the best soil you’d want to 
find! When we fly lower, I want you to notice 
the flocks of cattle and sheep.” 

“Why, the flocks are as large as Mr. Rolfe’s!” 
Peter exclaimed, and added, “at least those I see 
appear to be as large.” 








A GREEN LEAF WITH SILVER VEINS 


153 


“There can't be many cities,” Nancy observed. 
“It all looks like the country. On every road I 
can see carts and cars that seem to be headed for 
Montevideo. Well, it’s a good place to go.” 

“Only a few towns all right,” Uncle Lee agreed. 
“I don't want you to forget Fray Bentos where 
you get your beef tea. It's over there on the Uru¬ 
guay River. The extract's packed mostly in Ham¬ 
burg, Germany, but most of the beef extract comes 
from here. Out of Fray Bentos there are quite a 
few sizable businesses preparing and handling 
jerked beef—or dried beef as you know it.” 

“I'd like some right now,” Peter exclaimed, “in 
cream gravy with baked potatoes.” 

“It would be good and heating, if you were 
cold,” Nancy agreed. “Seems funny for Uruguay 
to be having summer when we're having winter 
back home. I'm all mixed up in my seasons with 
roses in bloom! Uruguay has quite a long coast 
line! Never noticed that on the map.” 

They had been flying along the coast. Now the 
ship turned inland again toward Montevideo. 
Both Peter and Nancy recognized the muddy 
Plata. Not only was it very wide all the distance 
between Montevideo and Buenos Aires, but it 
continued to be wide, both at the ocean and at its 
source where the Uruguay and Parana Rivers 
joined. 

“It's like the Mississippi!” Peter offered. “It 
has tributaries.” 

“Only its source is in the hot lands of Brazil 



154 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


and Bolivia where palms and rubber trees grow,” 
Uncle Lee put in. 

! “And its mouth is in the cooler countries,” Peter 
continued, “where wheat and corn grow. The 
Mississippi has its source in cold country and its 
mouth in warm country. Uncle, is that an island 
down there? Hey! Look at the fellows waving 
at us! They’re all in uniform or I miss my guess!” 

“That’s the island of Martin Gracia,” Uncle 
Lee said, “if it’s just beyond the mouth of the 
Uruguay River and just before entering the 
Parana. The Argentine Naval School is there— 
a fort, too.” 

“Was Martin Gracia someone for whom the 
island was named?” Nancy asked. 

“Yes. The early Spanish explorers stopped on 
the island while on their way into Uruguay,” 
Uncle Lee replied. “Their leader was Martin 
Gracia. Seems to be a favorite place for explorers. 
Sebastian Cabot made a stop on the island, too.” 

“Do my eyes deceive me,” Peter cried, “or are 
some of those islands up the river moving?” 

“We’re doing the moving!” Nancy cried. “It 
only looks that way down below.” 

“The islands are moving all right,” Uncle Lee 
shouted as the plane roared on. “If it were flood 
time you’d see a good many more. The islands are 
just masses of weeds and turf and flowers. Strong 
enough for a man to stand on sometimes. At high 
tide or flood it often happens that jaguars or 
snakes crawl upon them for protection.” 



A GREEN LEAF WITH SILVER VEINS 


155 


“I’d be perfectly satisfied without such com¬ 
pany,Peter remarked. 

As the plane flew over the interior again the 
country appeared as rolling pasture land with 
a few little ranges of hills. White-faced cattle 
looked up in amazement at the noise in the sky 
and then continued to eat placidly. Sheep and 
lambs grazing over the rolling country paid little 
or no attention to the great hummingbird. Down 
in a little valley Peter and Nancy suddenly per¬ 
ceived a tense situation. 

A small lamb had strayed from the flock, 
tempted, no doubt, by the tender young shoots near 
a tiny stream. Down along the bank crept a 
darker animal with catlike tread. Stealthily it 
advanced, its tail twitching nervously, its body 
close to the ground. It was getting ready to spring 
when the plane zoomed downward. As Uncle 
Lee said afterward, the plane flew so low that 
it almost burned the grass. The lamb sped to¬ 
ward the flock and the catlike animal betook him¬ 
self to the hills. 

The sun was hanging low in the sky and the 
four bright stars of the Southern Cross began to 
shine softly. The Milky Way had never seemed 
so close, so beautiful. The Plata had turned from 
a muddy yellow to a golden red. It was pleasant 
to be flying from the dark countryside toward 
the gay, brightly lighted capital. Peter and Nancy 
were not surprised that it had been chosen for 
one of the Pan-American conferences. 



156 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 



Ewing Galloway 

CALLE 18 DE JULIO OR THE STREET OF JULY 18 


Peter and Nancy knew by the speed with which 
they returned to the airport that Uncle Lee had 
plans for the evening. He had reserved a table 
on the famous boulevard known as “Calle 18 de 
Julio,” or the Street of July 18. It was so called 
because on July 18, 1830, the constitution was 
adopted and the Republic of Uruguay was formed. 

“If I were a meat packer instead of a geog¬ 
rapher/' said Uncle Lee as they were seated, “I’d 
take you youngsters here to dinner every night 
for a week.” 

“Does all the money in Montevideo come from 













A GREEN LEAF WITH SILVER VEINS 


157 


meat packing?” Peter inquired. “There’s cer¬ 
tainly enough beef and lamb in Uruguay to supply 
any demand, however great.” 

“Shiploads and carloads of meat are dressed 
and frozen here,” Uncle Lee explained. “A good 
many Americans are in the business! But then 
they’re everywhere, these Americans.” 

“You mean ‘we Americans,’ don’t you, Uncle 
Lee?” Nancy asked. “I think it’s splendid. We’re 
good-will tourists. I’ll always remember Monte¬ 
video for its clean, fine streets, its lovely parks 
and roses, and I do like that queer-shaped tower of 
the Salvo Building.” 

“The University of Montevideo is every bit as 
grand as ours,” Peter added. “I’d like to go to it. 
You could go, too, Nancy. Girls as well as boys 
can go there. Then we could see the ships coming 
into the harbor every day and going out again 
loaded down. I’d like to stay.” 

“Is it the good dinner talking, Peter,” cried 
Uncle Lee, “or is it you?” 

“It’s me, all right. I mean it is I.” Peter 
staunchly stood his ground. “Some day I’m going 
to be one of the forty thousand Americans down 
here. Maybe I’ll plant wheat in Argentina. 
Maybe I’ll dig silver in Peru. Maybe I’ll raise 
sheep in Patagonia.” 

“And maybe you’ll go home and study geog¬ 
raphy out of a book,” said Nancy. 

Peter ignored Nancy’s remark. 

“Tomorrow,” he boasted, “I shall climb the 



158 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


cerro and see the whole city from the old, gray 
fortress on its crest. If they hadn't named the 
town before I came, maybe they'd have called it 
‘I see a mountain' anyway, after my remark." 

“That sherbet's gone to your head, Peter," ob¬ 
served Nancy. “Still, I don't blame him, Uncle 
Lee. This is one of the gayest places we have ever 
visited." 

“Well, I have a surprise for you youngsters," 
said Uncle Lee. “I'm going to put you in a school 
here until summer while I finish my articles for 
the newspapers." 

Peter and Nancy could only stare. 





THE RIVER-BOUNDED COUNTRY 


I T WAS midwinter in South America now, al¬ 
though the MacLarens' calendar said July. 
Had it been summer the harbor of Montevideo, 
in all probability, would have been full of floating 
islands that the spring floods were bearing sea¬ 
ward. Now the harbor was clear, and Peter and 
Nancy were happy that Uncle Lee had decided 
to take them to Paraguay on a Parana River 
steamer. It was delightful to see so close at hand 
what they had already seen from the air, the 
broad river gradually narrowing between islands 
fringed with grass and strangely beautiful flow¬ 
ers. Several days of leisurely boat life lay ahead. 
Peter declared that he wouldn't care how long 
the trip lasted. He liked the seven-course dinners 
with the wonderful meat soups and delicious 
golden oranges offered after the regular dessert. 

The steamer came, all too soon, to the meeting 
of the Parana and the Uruguay Rivers. Peter and 
Nancy realized from their air trip, that it was 
the junction of these two rivers that formed the 
Plata, that “river of silver" that looked like mud. 

On the fourth day Peter called to Nancy, “Here's 
a clear river! Uncle Lee says the Alto Parana and 
the Paraguay join to form the Parana. This must 
be the Paraguay River. We've reached Paraguay!" 


159 


160 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


Nancy saw palms waving in the pleasant breeze. 
Little adobe buildings of a village near by boasted 
pretty red-tiled roofs. Oxcarts jogged past a 
moss-covered gateway, and white birds looking 
like gulls flew over the steamer. 

“We’ll soon reach Asuncion.” Uncle Lee had 
joined the children. “Asuncion is almost opposite 
the mouth of the river of mystery.” 

“The river of mystery!” Peter and Nancy both 
cried at once. 

“Yes. The Pilcomayo,” Uncle Lee said. “It 
rises in the mountains of Southern Bolivia and 
flows through a country that has been as little 
explored as any country on earth.” 

“Maybe,” said Peter, “I’ll be an explorer in 
Bolivia instead of an Argentine cattle king or 
wheat grower.” 

Uncle Lee smiled. Then he pointed out that no 
explorer could have chosen a better site for a city 
than did the Spaniards who selected the site for 
building the capital city of Paraguay. There it 
stood on the high bank of a river, safe from floods 
and with natural drainage. 

Although it was winter, the weather was like 
that of Southern California. Peter and Nancy, 
following Uncle Lee into the arcaded custom¬ 
house, were grateful for the shade. Soon they 
were out on the streets of Asuncion. 

Uncle Lee said there had been many changes 
since his last visit a good many years before. The 
cobblestones had been replaced by blocks of pave- 



THE RIVER-BOUNDED COUNTRY 


161 


ment and many of the old buildings had been torn 
down. In their places were structures quite as 
ornate as those in Buenos Aires. Peter and Nancy 
had hoped that they still might behold a night 
watchman such as Uncle Lee had described to 
them, prowling about in a big black cape and 
carrying a lantern. There was no such watchman 
now, only a policeman in khaki who blew his 
whistle to be answered by the nearest watch. It 
reminded Peter and Nancy of the little tropical 
towns on the west coast. 

The houses were lovely, usually pink or buff, 
with the now familiar bougainvillea climbing all 
over them. The gardens were full of roses and 
jasmine and crimson hibiscus; and never before 
had Peter and Nancy beheld such great poinset- 
tias. In every yard, however humble, they saw 
orange trees, in flower and fruit at the same time. 
Ever afterward the fragrance of oranges was to 
remind them of Paraguay. 

Uncle Lee pointed out the beautiful old cathe¬ 
dral near the river as well as the famous house 
where the declaration of Paraguayan indepen¬ 
dence from Spain was signed. But Peter and 
Nancy were more interested in the present city. 
Although many people dressed in North American 
style, most of the women went barefoot; and be¬ 
neath the long white sheetlike garment draped 
over head and body, a full petticoat with low- 
necked blouse was worn. 

To the amazement of Peter and Nancy the 



162 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 



Ewing Galloway 

THE FRAGRANCE OF ORANGES WAS TO REMIND THEM 
OF PARAGUAY 


native women were nearly always seen smoking 
black cigars. Invariably when they carried pack¬ 
ages it was on their heads so that their hands 
might be free for other tasks. Once they passed 
a peddler. He was an “ostrich-brush man,” selling 
feather dusters on the streets. These feathers, 
Nancy remembered, were not true ostrich feath¬ 
ers, but from the rheas of the Argentine pampas. 

The people of Paraguay were quite different 
from those of Uruguay. They were a mixture, 
Uncle Lee said, of Spanish and native Guarani. 





THE RIVER-BOUNDED COUNTRY 


163 


The Guarani were Indian stock, pleasant and 
docile as a rule. 

When Nancy saw some of the spider-web lace 
made by the village women, she was entranced. 
A woman merchant had introduced it to the Mac- 
Larens at the hotel. It was called handuti, and 
was made from a native fiber. It reminded Nancy 
of the needle-point lace she had seen in Flanders. 

“I do want to see the lacemakers.” Nancy 
sipped her iced cane juice that had been sweetened 
with raspberry sirup. Peter and Uncle Lee were 
seated beside her on a bench in the hotel patio. 
“Couldn’t we ride out tomorrow, Uncle Lee?” 

Uncle Lee and Peter were not particularly in¬ 
terested in lace, but the ride appealed to them. 
They secured horses directly after breakfast the 
following morning. 

The ride led through avenues of tall trees arched 
over a highway. Set back from the road little 
brick-colored houses thatched over with palm often 
revealed themselves. The MacLarens knew that 
they were near a village when they began to meet 
girls carrying lace frames. 

The ancient village came into view with a few 
mansions but mostly thatched huts. The Guarani 
girls, Nancy thought, were very pretty, with their 
black hair in two long braids, their shining eyes 
and their clean, white gowns. Nearly everyone 
was smoking a cigar. When Nancy smiled at one 
of them, she answered with a flash of white teeth 
and offered to show the visitor how to make lace. 



164 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 



Ewing Galloway 

THE LITTLE LACEMAKER OF ASUNCION 

The MacLarens dismounted and Nancy sat 
down beside the little lacemaker on a convenient 
hummock. With a piece of charcoal the girl out¬ 
lined her design on a piece of linen. Then she 
began to pull threads and to use her needle. It 
would take perhaps a week to make even a hand¬ 
kerchief, and so the girl offered to show the Mac¬ 
Larens some of her completed work. Nancy left 
the village light of purse and of heart. 

The way in which the Guarani women balanced 
produce on their heads interested Peter far more 
than the lace. His attention was held by a young 





THE RIVER-BOUNDED COUNTRY 


165 



Ewing Galloway 

LEARNING THE ART OF BALANCING 

woman driving a donkey down the street, both 
arms full of bundles and on her head a large bas¬ 
ket of oranges. She was smoking a cigar. At the 
sight of the strangers, she paused; and Peter 
motioned toward the oranges and his own head. 
She understood, and the transfer was made. 

As he placed the heavy basket on his head, 
Peter’s face grew very red. He took one step, then 
grasped the basket tightly with both hands in 
order to balance it. A crowd of women had gath¬ 
ered, all smoking black cigars. Little boys and 
girls came running. They, too, had been puffing 









166 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


at cigars, but they stopped to stare at Peter. Now 
that he had an audience, he was determined to do 
his best. He stood up very straight and stiff. He 
removed his hands, holding his arms out for bal¬ 
last. Then he walked two or three steps, striving 
to imitate the easy gait of the Guarani women. 
Down came the basket with golden oranges rolling 
all over the ground. How everyone laughed! 

Uncle Lee decided to buy the oranges and the 
basket, too. 

“Shall we eat the oranges, Peter,” he asked, “or 
do you want to practice some more?” 

“Better eat them,” decided Peter. 

Peter and Nancy learned to expect huge mounds 
of the golden fruit in every market. They also 
learned that oranges were not native to Para¬ 
guay. The first trees had been planted several 
hundred years before by Jesuit missionaries. Not 
only had natives planted the seeds close at home, 
but birds had assisted by carrying the seeds all 
over the country. 

There were other kinds of oranges to be en¬ 
joyed, too. Some years before an Englishman had 
brought the Mandarin orange to Paraguay from 
China. This thin-skinned, flat-topped orange was 
very fragrant. There were bitter oranges, too, 
whose oil was used as a basis for perfume. 

But Peter and Nancy were satisfied and de¬ 
lighted with the abundance of ordinary oranges 
everywhere. The poorest farm child could have 
all the fruit he needed just for the picking. 





A NEW WAY TO DRINK TEA 


T HERE was a vast sea of grass on either side 
of the silvery Paraguay River. Cattle grazed 
knee-deep in green pasture or in the shade of 
clumps of trees. Uncle Lee had procured an In¬ 
dian guide who understood Spanish. This native 
took charge of the small launch and of Peter and 
Nancy quite as though they were old friends. He 
pointed out the alligators sunning themselves on 
the bank, and, early in the dewy morning of the 
second day’s trip, he shut off the motor and called 
attention to a panther swimming the stream. The 
woods were becoming more and more like jungle 
growth. Uncle Lee had planned this very special 
trip to Villa Concepcion after returning to Asun¬ 
cion. 

In a clearing suddenly appeared a village, and 
through the maze of thickets the MacLarens 
discovered curious natives. The party made a 
landing and found the village to be a few thatched 
huts with walls of mud. Peter and Nancy were 
invited into one of the houses by a friendly native 
woman. There was only one room. The complete 
furnishings comprised a crude table and a few 
chairs. The roof, however, extended beyond this 
room to form an open shed held up with poles. 
It was in this shed that the family spent the day. 
Hammocks were swung from poles, woven ham- 

167 


168 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


mocks of jungle vines and wood fiber. There was 
a log standing just outside the shed. It had been 
upended and hollowed out to form a mortar in 
which to grind corn. 

One of the natives proudly called Uncle Lee’s 
attention to several logs that had been dragged in. 
They were heavy hardwoods, too heavy to float 
down stream, but they might be left in the woods 
for years without decaying. 

The now familiar orange trees hung above the 
thatched huts and strange birds flew through the 
branches. Near the hut in which Peter and Nancy 
sat were a great many dark red mounds of differ¬ 
ent sizes. The guide explained that these were ant 
hills. He intimated, with an expressive gesture, 
that ants were a great pest in Paraguay. 

On the third day out, a boat from Asuncion 
to Villa Concepcion passed the small launch. The 
children were cramped and tired in the close quar¬ 
ters. Uncle Lee hailed the captain, who gladly 
took the MacLarens on board. The guide went 
on ahead with the launch. 

At Villa Concepcion the wharf was black with 
men carrying Paraguay tea in bales down to the 
ships. The captain suggested that before the 
MacLarens went ashore they have “a dish of tea” 
with him. He called it yerba mate. Both Peter and 
Nancy were aware that Paraguay tea was known 
as “mate” and that it was in great demand below 
the equator. They had never tasted it before, but 
they welcomed this opportunity, especially as they 



A NEW WAY TO DRINK TEA 


169 


had learned that President Franklin Roosevelt had 
it served in the White House. 

“Argentina,” Peter heard the captain say, 
“uses seven times as much mate as coffee. Brazil 
couldn't get along without it, and the people of 
Uruguay and Chile prefer it to Japanese and 
Chinese tea.” 

“It must be good!” Peter smacked his lips. 

“I can hardly wait to taste it.” Nancy's eyes 

shone. 

Uncle Lee said nothing, but continued to listen 
politely to the captain. 

“We shall serve it out on deck in true native 
style,” the captain promised, “except that, instead 
of passing the dish around, each one will have his 
individual bowl.” 

A steward set out a round table and Uncle Lee 
took his place between Peter and Nancy with the 
captain opposite. Before each guest, the steward 
set a round gourd with a handle fitted into its side. 
Then he put a spoonful of powdered leaves into 
each bowl and poured boiling water over it. 

The captain offered Nancy what looked like a 
long silver tube with a much-pierced bulb at the 
end. 

“That,” he explained, “is a bombilla. The 
pierced bulb strains the tea as you drink it. Draw 
your tea up through the tube as though you were 
drinking soda water. We all like our mate boiling 
hot, but perhaps it is too hot for you. I may say 
that the natives do not often use silver. More 




Ewing Galloway 


A BOMBILLA AND GOURD USED IN DRINKING 
YERBA MATE 






A NEW WAY TO DRINK TEA 


171 


often than not their mate is drunk through a hol¬ 
low reed.” 

Peter and Nancy both hesitated until they saw 
the captain and Uncle Lee begin to drink. 

Peter said, “One. Two. Three. Ready! Go!” 

Then both he and Nancy drank. Oh, what hot, 
bitter stuff! Their mouths puckered and tears 
came to their eyes. 

“Give the children some honey to put in their 
tea,” the captain ordered. 

The steward did as he was told, but Nancy 
thought that mate was one of the drinks she did 
not care to learn to like. 

At Villa Concepcion Uncle Lee’s guide had made 
arrangements to take the MacLarens inland to the 
tea forests. It was an arduous trip on foot, after 
leaving an open trail, but Nancy would not be 
left behind. Peter helped her over fallen logs 
and through scratchy brush. 

The plants that furnished the mate were low 
bushes growing among other trees. They re¬ 
minded Peter of holly bushes, except that the 
young leaves were a brighter green. These bushes, 
Nancy learned, were called yerbales and the na¬ 
tives who gathered the small branches yerbateros. 
It was a strange sight to see the dark men carry¬ 
ing great bundles of pretty green twigs toward 
a camp which Uncle Lee said had been set up for 
the purpose of drying the tea. 

The guide led Peter and Nancy to one of the 
drying houses. It was just a framework made 




172 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 



Ewing Galloway 


THE MATE LOOKED LIKE HOLLY BUSHES 

of poles and held up by posts. The roof was arched 
to make greater space for the branches which 
were woven in and out among the poles. So 
quickly and evenly were the branches placed that 
soon the roof was an even thatch. 

“Looks like Christmas decorations,” observed 
Nancy. 

“But just look at the floor, Nancy,” Peter cried. 
“IPs made of clay, but it's as hard and clean as 
our kitchen floor at home.” 

A slow fire was soon built on the clay floor. The 
guide told Uncle Lee that only sweet-smelling 





A NEW WAY TO DRINK TEA 


173 


woods were used and that care was taken to pre¬ 
vent the fire getting smoky. He offered to lead 
the MacLarens to a drying house where the 
process was being completed. 

Just as Peter and Nancy came into this new 
clearing, a big native brushed the last bit of 
ashes from the hard floor. Nimbler, smaller na¬ 
tives then scrambled like monkeys up into the 
framework and began pushing the dry leaves 
through. These leaves fluttered to the clean floor, 
crumbling as they fell. 

A group of grinning Indians fell upon them 
with wooden clubs, pounding them into a coarse 
powder. Cross-legged on a tree stump sat a big 
fellow sewing up a fox skin with thongs of green 
hide. Into this sack went the mate. When the 
sack was stuffed full, the native completed his 
sewing. The bag was then rolled over into the 
sun. The guide showed Peter some of the dried 
bags. Peter kicked at one with the toe of his 
boot. It was hard as rock. 

On the way into the city of Villa Concepcion the 
guide told Peter all about the wild animals he had 
encountered. He said that the wild dogs looked 
much like tame dogs except that their ears were 
very short and their tails bushy. Usually they 
were yellow in color with black legs. The little 
wild hogs, called peccaries, were none too pleasant 
to meet. Although they lived on roots and nuts, 
they were very ferocious. Tapirs and deer and 
antelope abounded in the region, the guide de- 



174 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 



Ewing Galloway 

A SOUTH AMERICAN TAPIR 

dared, but Peter and Nancy did not happen to 
see any of them. 

What strange noises came through this wild 
country at dusk! The ugly hoarse bark of wild 
dogs that lived back of the swamps and would 
stalk forth at night for prey! The grunts, and 
snorts, and weird bird sounds! 

The MacLarens as well as the guide felt much 
more cheerful when the lights of the city came into 
view. Peter was quite talkative. 

“This Chaco region that I have heard so much 
about sounds interesting. What are the people 
like?” Peter inquired. 






A NEW WAY TO DRINK TEA 


175 


“Indians, mostly," Uncle Lee replied. “There 
are several different tribes. The Tobas are tall, 
thick-skinned hunters whose women tattoo them¬ 
selves in blue and red, and dye their hair yellow. 
Of course the men indulge in tattooing as well. 
The Lenguas are famous for their ability to tame 
wild animals and their children often have strange 
pets. Many of the Chaco Indians move about from 
camp to camp, but a few do live in villages/' 

“But why should anyone want the Chaco ter¬ 
ritory?" Nancy inquired, holding tightly to Uncle 
Lee's hand in the dark. 

“Because," Uncle Lee answered, “it has won¬ 
derfully nourishing grasses for stock and a splen¬ 
did water supply as well. That's what a cattle 
country needs. Argentina is cultivating wheat 
more and more, and the final cattle roundup will 
be in the Chaco region. Then some day it can be 
drained to make the richest soil on earth." 

“Do you remember Jimmy Dustin telling of 
the bad half-hour he had while flying over the 
green swamps in the Gran Chaco Jungle?" asked 
Nancy. “He said several natives with poisoned 
spears and deadly bows and arrows, enraged be¬ 
cause they could not harm the flyers, made angry 
gestures at the plane as it flew over that country. 
The tiger and the jaguar could not have been 
more fiercely muscular than those natives, nor 
could a successful attack by them have been more 
deadly." 

“Anyway," Peter's every word breathed re- 




Ewing Galloway 


THE CHRIST OF THE ANDES 











A NEW WAY TO DRINK TEA 


177 


lief, "he wasn’t forced down. He said he was 
almost as scared as the time he climbed over the 
Andes in his plane and was lost until he saw the 
'Christ of the Andes!’ ” 

"I wish we had been with him,” said Nancy. 
“I should like to see the Christ of the Andes, but 
I know the legend inscribed on it.” 

"Say it, Nancy,” Peter begged. 

"All right: Sooner shall these mountains crum¬ 
ble into dust than the people of Argentina and 
Chile break the peace which they have sworn to 
maintain at the feet of Christ the Redeemer .” 

"I wish Paraguay and Bolivia had a statue like 
that,” Peter said soberly. "A bronze statue in 
a jungle would be just as beautiful as a bronze 
statue on a mountain.” 




Ewing Galloway 


THE CUNNINGEST MONKEY NANCY HAD EVER SEEN 


GREATER THAN NIAGARA 

I T DID not seem possible that a forest could be 
so thick. Nancy held very tightly to Uncle 
Lee’s hand when what looked like black logs on 
the shore slipped into the water and became live 
alligators. Then out of that dense mass of green¬ 
ery appeared a funny, furry little face that 
showed ugly white teeth in an impish smile. It 
was the cunningest monkey Nancy had ever seen, 


178 



GREATER THAN NIAGARA 


179 


the twinkling black eyes fairly sparkling with the 
joy of life. Other monkeys appeared, hundreds 
of them, and bright-colored birds, disturbed by 
the noise of the boat, flew screeching into the tall 
trees. 

“There’s a toucan!” Peter yelled excitedly. 
“The brightest red and the brightest blue colors! 
Look at that long, hooked bill, Nancy! A white 
deer just crashed through that brush! Now if 
we could only see a puma or a jaguar! I’d just as 
soon stay in Brazil even if I had to learn to speak 
Portuguese. Mato Grosso is certainly a good 
name for this part.” 

“What does Mato Grosso mean, Peter?” Nancy 
asked eagerly, her eyes on a shining fish that had 
just leaped up out of the Paraguay River on which 
they were sailing, from Villa Concepcion to Co¬ 
rumba. 

“Great forest, of course.” Peter spoke impor¬ 
tantly. “But then everything’s great in Brazil, 
from the length of the coast line to the size of the 
Amazon River. And guess what! As soon as we 
get to Corumba, Jimmy Dustin is going to meet 
us with his airplane and show us Iguassu Falls in 
the wilds of southeastern Brazil. I was to keep 
it a secret until we met him, and I’ve been burst¬ 
ing to tell. You’re soon to see Iguassu now.” 

“Honestly, Peter?” Nancy could scarcely be¬ 
lieve her ears. “Not the greatest falls in the 
world! Not the ones that he said were greater 
than Niagara?” 



180 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


“The same,” Peter answered loftily. “Iguassu.” 

Corumba, the chief commercial city of Mato 
Grosso, looked so much like Asuncion that the 
MacLarens could scarcely believe they were in 
Brazil. But their stay was only a few hours in 
length. 

Jimmy Dustin, his skin more leathery in color 
than ever, but his blue eyes just as sharp and 
bright, said briefly, “Pve looked forward to this. 
It’ll be something you can never forget.” 

Sitting beside Nancy in the rear of the cockpit, 
Peter aired his knowledge of waterfalls. 

“The three greatest known waterfalls in the 
world,” he announced, “are Victoria, Niagara, 
and Iguassu. Victoria happens to be the highest. 
It’s in Africa, of course. Niagara, in our own 
country, has the largest body of water at a single 
point. But Iguassu is the most beautiful, the most 
colorful, and the most wonderful in every way.” 

“You sound like a ballyhoo man instead of a 
geographer, Peter,” Nancy teased. “Any book 
of facts will tell you that Iguassu has about a two- 
hundred-foot plunge at one place and about a 
thirteen-thousand-foot Crestline, which is wider 
than Niagara and Victoria together.” 

Peter shook himself impatiently. He was seeing 
a vision that he could not put into words. It was 
a vision of a river wandering through the great 
forests of Brazil and coming at length to the edge 
of a vast plateau over which it must plunge. The 
plunge, Peter had been told, was no headlong 



GREATER THAN NIAGARA 


181 


dive, except at one place, but the breaking up of 
a vast river into superb cataracts and fairy mist. 

The plane hummed on through tropical skies, 
on and on and on. Trees in flower or fruit ap¬ 
peared merely as a single blossom on a carpet of 
green. The tops of the giant trees, so interlaced 
with vines that the sun could not sift through, 
looked like a blue-green lawn. Far below a river 
seemed like a silver ribbon winding through the 
blue-green forest. 

There was a far-off rumbling strangely like 
thunder and yet with an unforgettable difference. 
Jimmy circled the plane into a position that would 
make the first view of the river most effective. 
To the MacLarens it looked as though the river 
were flowing out of the tropical sky. Half a mile 
away, it must have been, yet it seemed to be rush¬ 
ing toward the plane in a flood of unearthly 
beauty. Each big or little waterfall, as the great 
river broke into cataracts, was shot through with 
rainbow gleams. Where the mist of falling veils 
of water turned to feathery whiteness, blue jungle 
reached up to draw it down. Never before were 
there such heavenly colors, of deep blue sky, of 
blue-green jungle, and of rainbow water. 

Peter and Nancy were so entranced that they 
hardly realized when the plane came to earth in 
a clearing. A group of almost naked Indians 
crowded about the ship from the sky. Like the 
transcendant beauty of the falls, these copper- 
colored natives seemed scarcely real. The gigantic 



PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


182 



Ewing Galloway 

IGUASSU FALLS—GREATER THAN NIAGARA 


cedars, the pale orchids, and the great ferns were 
all part of the setting. When a dark purple-look¬ 
ing bird flew over the wings of the plane, followed 
by a golden bird, Nancy rubbed her eyes in sheer 
amazement. 

The children crept down along the side of one 
of the lovely cataracts. Peter broke the spell that 
had been cast over them both. 

“No power plant to spoil this,” he declared. 
“Wait a moment! There’s a little animal going 
down to drink. Do you suppose it’s a jaguar? I 
suppose all sorts of animals come here to drink. 
The falls must be more than two miles across 
and it’s really part of the Alto Parana. Never 
shall I forget this Brazilian frontier.” 

“Uncle Lee says that sometimes there’s a whole 





GREATER THAN NIAGARA 


183 



Ewing Galloway 

A BRILLIANT-COLORED PARROT ADDED TO THE 
BEAUTY OF THE SCENE 

semicircle of water across from shore to shore, but 
I like the little islands showing/' Nancy added. 

A fog, almost as white as the misty veil of the 
falls, was settling down over the delicate bamboos 
and the tall tree ferns. A brilliant-colored parrot 
fluttered ahead of the children. 

Then Uncle Lee and Jimmy Dustin called to 
them, and they all went back to the Hotel Iguassu 
for dinner. Such a fine, comfortable hotel! But 
somehow in this wild country, with its startling 
natural beauty, Peter and Nancy thought they 
would have preferred to camp out. Uncle Lee 
said that camping in a jungle with insect pests 






184 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


and prowling jaguars was not his idea of a com¬ 
fortable night. 

At dinner an old traveler told of the Falls of La 
Guaira, farther up the river, said to be greater in 
volume than Iguassu. For the average tourist, 
however, they were inaccessible. 

“Not for us!” boasted Nancy. “Jimmy Dustin 
isn't afraid to fly over any kind of country.” 

“We're flying into the coffee country in the 
morning,” Peter boasted. 

“Tonight,” Uncle Peter put in, “we shall enjoy 
ourselves right here. After one more view of the 
falls—this time by moonlight—I want Peter and 
Nancy to meet a friend of mine from Diamantino 
in Minas Geraes. Then we are to have a concert.” 

The events of this strangely different day grew 
even more promising. Peter and Nancy followed 
Jimmy and Uncle Lee along a little path to the 
edge of the river. They sat in the bottom of a 
canoe while Jimmy and Uncle Lee picked up their 
paddles. From island to island the canoe shot 
forward. The moon rose. In the moonlight much 
of the water was like liquid silver, while across 
the smoother surfaces golden light made an ex¬ 
quisite path, like an Inca street of gold. The mist 
had dissolved into fairy tinsel too delicate for 
the imagination. 

Back at the hotel Uncle Lee led Jimmy and the 
children into a lovely small room. At a mahogany 
table sat a gentleman in evening clothes. He rose 
and invited his guests to be seated. 



GREATER THAN NIAGARA 


185 


“Well, how did the falls look tonight?” he in¬ 
quired politely. 

“They sparkled like diamonds,” Nancy an¬ 
swered shyly. 

The gentleman opened a little bag and dumped 
its contents on a black velvet cloth. 

“Diamonds!” exclaimed Peter. 

“Yes. Brazilian diamonds,” agreed the man 
from Minas Geraes. “No more beautiful than 
Miss Nancy’s diamonds of the Iguassu, but more 
substantial.” 

From the hotel salon came the strumming of 
stringed instruments, the melodious chords of a 
harp blending into the mystery of the night. 

“Shall we go in?” Uncle Lee asked. “A famous 
Brazilian singer is entertaining the hotel guests.” 

A voice, lovely as the murmur of little cascades, 
floated out from the charming room. Nancy, 
seated between Jimmy and Peter, could not see 
the singer at first. Then Uncle Lee moved aside, 
and there stood a very striking young woman. 
She had a flashing smile and in her black hair 
jewels sparkled. 

“She’s black,” Nancy whispered. 

“There isn’t much of a color line in Brazil,” 
Jimmy whispered back. “You’ll get used to it.” 

The music was soothing and the subdued roar 
of the waterfall rhythmic. Nancy nodded. The 
water did sparkle like diamonds, she thought 
sleepily, so did the singer’s tiara. To Peter’s cha¬ 
grin, Nancy went to sleep against his shoulder. 




SANTOS SPELLS COFFEE 


J IMMY DUSTIN brought his plane blithely on 
to Santos with the MacLarens safely in the 
cockpit. The plane made out to sea and then 
turned inland. 

“I want you to see Santos from the harbor,” 
Jimmy explained. “You can smell it anywhere.” 
“Smell it?” inquired Nancy. 

“Yes, smell it,” Jimmy answered. “Even your 
clothes will smell of coffee by the time we leave 
for Rio de Janeiro.” 

“Well, coffee smells good to me,” Uncle Lee 
declared. “Wouldn’t mind a cupful right now. 
The thermos bottle is empty.” 

“Santos is about three miles in from the ocean,” 
Uncle Lee explained, “but it’s the chief port for 
a large part of Southern Brazil just the same.” 

“That’s a brown-looking river, the Guaruja,” 
Peter observed critically, “even though it has 
tropical-looking banks. What’s that fortress? Oh! 
Barra Grande! Do the soldiers spend most of their 
time swimming? They look black enough.” 

“Those hills in the rear, beyond the swamps 
and the palm trees, will remind you of Rio de 
Janeiro later on,” Uncle Lee promised. “But these 
wharves are in a class by themselves.” 

“You wouldn’t think there was that much coffee 
in the world,” spoke up Nancy. “Wharves miles 


186 


SANTOS SPELLS COFFEE 


187 


long and ships two and three deep, like customers 
waiting at a lunch counter for a cup of coffee.” 

“Are all those warehouses there on shore filled 
with coffee?” Peter asked. 

Later on he was astounded at the sight of double 
lines of stevedores trotting up gangplanks beneath 
heavy bags of coffee. Negroes, Italians and Por¬ 
tuguese, all dark of skin, their half-naked bodies 
shining with sweat! They gave to the port an 
atmosphere of such bustle and confusion as Peter 
and Nancy had seldom seen. 

Jimmy brought his plane to earth on a beach 
so far from the town that it necessitated a motor 
trip to the city. All the way back Uncle Lee talked 
of the new methods of loading coffee at some of 
the quays. He said there were mechanical con¬ 
veyors that, by a system of belts, carried the sacks 
much more easily than did the sweating steve¬ 
dores. 

It was hot and muggy in the heart of Santos, 
so much so that Uncle Lee declared he could easily 
steep coffee like yerba mate, or Paraguay tea, if 
only he had a puddle of water close at hand. 
Nevertheless he consented directly after lunch to 
go for a drive. 

“I thought we wouldn’t see, hear, or smell any¬ 
thing in Santos but coffee,” Peter declared, when 
the driver drew up before a statue of Braz Cubas 
who was the founder of the city. 

“Well this fellow discovered the coffee port, 
anyway,” Uncle Lee explained. “Santos comes 



188 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 



Ewing Galloway 

NEW METHODS OF LOADING COFFEE—A SCENE 
IN SANTOS 

from Todos os Santos , meaning, All Saints’ Day, 
the day on which the site was discovered. This 
park leads to a smaller square and here begins a 
street known as 15th of November Street. It 
was so called because on November 15, 1889, 
Pedro II was no longer able to maintain a mon¬ 
archical government. This date marked the begin¬ 
ning of a democracy.” 

Rua 15 de Novembro was old and narrow 
and very crooked. Moreover, it was quite as busy 
as the wharves, for on this street, Uncle Lee said, 








SANTOS SPELLS COFFEE 


189 


half the world’s coffee business was transacted. 

“I never saw such hustling in all South Amer¬ 
ica,” Nancy said in surprise. 

“That’s because these noon hours are the only 
business hours,” Uncle Lee explained. “Most of 
the coffee merchants live in Sao Paulo and are 
anxious to get back where their collars won’t 
wilt.” 

Rua 15 de Novembro proved to be decidedly 
picturesque, with its open-fronted shops, its old 
colonial mansions, and its crumbling old walls. 
There were tiny plazas and squatty churches be¬ 
side houses of colored plaster and blue-and-white 
tile. 

But Santos was not all old-fashioned. No, in¬ 
deed! Two broad avenues led southward across 
the town to the open sea and there were many 
modern residences along the drive. One avenue, 
the children discovered, changes its name from 
time to time throughout its great length. Part of 
it is called the Avenida Presidente Wilson. It was 
on this avenue that the MacLarens saw some of 
the finest hotels of their trip, hotels well patron¬ 
ized by the coffee kings of the Rio Grande do Sul. 

“Sao Paulo,” Jimmy told them, “is the most 
prosperous state in Brazil. It pays over half the 
income that goes into the republic’s treasury. 
That’s what coffee can do. It can do something 
else, too. Money made from coffee is helping rid 
Brazil of poisonous snakes. Let’s go out to the 
institute at Sao Paulo and see the Butantan.” 




190 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 



Ha Winy irwttuwwj/ 

BUTANTAN—A BOARDING HOUSE FOR SNAKES 


What’s the Butantan?” inquired Peter. 

“A boarding house for snakes,” Jimmy an¬ 
swered. “You’ll see for yourself. We’ll drive 
out.” 

Nancy demurred at first, but upon arriving at 
the outskirts of the city of Sao Paulo she evinced 
as much interest as did the others. The Butantan 
Snake Farm, which had started as a private enter¬ 
prise, was now a government institution. Its first 
duty, the visitors learned, was to prepare serums 
to counteract snake-bite. 

Such a neatly trimmed lawn! Such cunning 













SANTOS SPELLS COFFEE 


191 


little stone houses resembling igloos! And such 
awful-looking snakes! 

“Any new snake discovered in Brazil will re¬ 
ceive free transportation here and free lodging 
when he arrives,” Jimmy announced. 

He and the MacLarens stood outside the en¬ 
closure—a shallow moat and a two-foot wall. 
They watched an attendant wearing high leather 
boots lift a reptile on a long metal pole. 

“How many kinds are there?” inquired Nancy. 

“About a hundred and eighty,” Jimmy replied. 
“There are at least ten poisonous kinds. Some are 
really valuable specimens. Look at that black 
snake. That big fellow is a mussurana .” 

“A what?” Peter inquired. 

“A mussurana. He's a cannibal black snake, 
harmless to man but deadly where venomous 
snakes like rattlers are concerned. He eats them 
as a steady diet. These black snakes are raised 
here and shipped all over the country to help kill 
off the dangerous varieties.” 

“Coffee may pay for all this,” said Nancy, “but 
I haven't seen any except in coffee cups and in 
bags.” 

“Hop in the car,” Jimmy invited. “We'll take 
you on a ride you won't soon forget. If we ride 
until dinnertime I can show you a plantation on 
which there are at least eight million coffee trees.” 

“I think that will be enough to satisfy me,” 
Nancy agreed. 

“The harvest season is just about ended,” he 



192 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 



Ewing Eailoway 

A COFFEE PLANTATION NEAR SAO PAULO 


explained. “Generally lasts from May until into 
September. ,, 

The great coffee estate of Colonel Francisco 
Schmidt was as busy as Santos itself. Peter and 
Nancy were welcomed as guests and wandered 
for hours among the trees. A guide showed them 
some of the red berries. Then he opened a berry 
to show that it contained two beans. Between the 
outside of the berry and the beans, he pointed out, 
was a layer of pulp which must be washed off. 
Inside this pulp he indicated a white parchment 
which he said must also be removed. Then, last 
to be discarded, was the silver skin next the bean. 
The guide explained, also, that the amount of 






SANTOS SPELLS COFFEE 


193 


coffee to be shipped from a plantation is regulated. 

“If all the coffee harvested were dumped on 
the market at once,” he continued, “it would be 
too cheap. Do you like coffee?” 

Peter and Nancy looked at each other in em¬ 
barrassment. 

“We like the smell of it,” Nancy answered. 

“And we enjoy seeing the plantation,” Peter 
added. 

Driving back to Santos Uncle Lee asked, “Well, 
what have you two geographers learned today?” 

“Santos spells coffee,” Peter and Nancy recited 
together. 



A CITY OF DIZZY SIDEWALKS 


T HE boat from Santos to Rio de Janeiro was 
crowded with a gay mixture of Negroes and 
white people. 

“I’d like to roll to Rio, 

Some day before I’m old.” 

Uncle Lee, as he stood at the rail, was singing 
softly, a trifle off key, to be sure, but with a great 
deal of feeling. Peter and Nancy grinned at each 
other; and Peter sang, 

“I’m rolling on to Rio, 

And it's long before Ym oldr 
“Peter, you’re a poet yourself!” Nancy ex¬ 
claimed. “Do you suppose Rio de Janeiro can 
really be as wonderful as people say it is? We’ve 
heard more about Rio since we came to South 
America than about any other place.” 

“I know.” Peter waved his arms as he indulged 
in a spurt of oratory. “Behold the glittering gates 
of a heavenly city! Behold its alabaster buildings 
with royal palms waving in the air! Behold its 
hills and vales and colors such as you dream 
about!” 

Nancy applauded, but Uncle Lee said, “Some 
geographers have to see to believe.” 

When the boat from Santos actually steamed 
into the harbor of Rio de Janeiro, Peter and 


194 



Ewing Galloway 

THE HARBOR OF RIO DE JANEIRO 









196 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


Nancy became so awe-struck that it was Uncle 
Lee’s turn to laugh. The sand on the beach was 
white gold. The water and the sky were lovely 
blues. The palms with their white trunks and 
feathery green tops waved in the gentle breeze. 
The mountain peaks looked like some fantastic 
picture from a fairy story, so strangely were they 
shaped. Before the sheer beauty of it, Peter and 
Nancy stood very still. 

Uncle Lee said prosaically, “Well, we're here. 
Come on, youngsters." 

Peter and Nancy followed Uncle Lee down the 
gangplank into a formal garden with a bronze 
fountain. A hearty voice said, “This must be 
the MacLaren party, Uncle Lee and Peter and 
Nancy. I'm John Reed. Jimmy Dustin sent word 
for me to be here and to introduce you to Rio de 
Janeiro." 

John Reed was so big and friendly and he had 
such a wonderful smile that the MacLarens 
warmed to him at once. His enthusiasm was con¬ 
tagious. 

“The most beautiful city in the world," he 
declared. “Get in my car and I'll take you along 
the beach on the way to your hotel." 

It seemed as though anything could happen in 
this glamorous city. The boulevard led into a 
drive that cut through the very heart of the city. 
Past clubs, past embassies, past formal gardens 
and wonderful hotels purred the car. It was a 
city such as an architect might have dreamed. 



A CITY OF DIZZY SIDEWALKS 


197 


Peter nudged Nancy and advised her to look again 
at the queer peaks that rose about the bay. They 
had a peculiar fascination for Peter. 

“Those hills/’ John told them, “have often been 
compared to a herd of big elephants sitting in gro¬ 
tesque poses. There's the Corcovado or Hunch¬ 
back. There's a figure of Christ at its peak. Over 
there is lofty Tijuca and of course you recognize 
Sugar Loaf from the pictures you've seen. Jimmy 
adores Sugar Loaf. He says he's thanked Sugar 
Loaf instead of his stars any number of times be¬ 
cause it helped him to know his location. I'll take 
you up there! I don't suppose you youngsters are 
afraid of anything by now. Seasoned tourists!" 

“They're geographers," Uncle Lee corrected. 

“Oh, they are, are they? Like yourself, I sup¬ 
pose." John laughed, his voice a pleasant rumble. 
“Everybody likes the colors here, though I suppose 
you geographers care more about the topography." 

“I like the colors," Nancy spoke up. “Golden 
sand, blue water, green trees, red roofs—and oh, 
look at the pink and blue walls ahead! I wish we 
might paint our house at home pale blue. It would 
look lovely when the apple orchard was in bloom." 

“People would think we were crazy," objected 
Peter. “But I'd just as soon have it pink." 

Window-shopping in Rio de Janeiro was much 
like shopping in Paris or New York. Uncle Lee 
took Peter and Nancy for a walk directly after 
lunch. There were newspapers from all over the 
world on the stands, and in the windows chewing- 



198 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


gum, hats, gloves, toys, perfumes, drugs and 
leather goods with the label, “Made in Brazil," 
often appearing. 

It was very sunny. Uncle Lee wore a Palm 
Beach suit, as did Peter; and Nancy's tub silk 
dress was none too cool. To the children the side¬ 
walks were more fascinating than the window dis¬ 
plays. Uncle Lee could hardly get them to look up. 

“I can see leather goods any time," Peter in¬ 
sisted, “but I may never see sidewalks like these 
again." 

“It's more fun than a merry-go-round and 
makes you feel much more dizzy," Nancy declared, 
as she stepped on a huge inlaid butterfly and fol¬ 
lowed the scrolls that made up the next section of 
inlay. 

Peter paraded up and down so long in front 
of the Jockey Club looking at the designs of race 
horses on the sidewalk that a little crowd gath¬ 
ered around him. 

“Come on," Uncle Lee said. “Pm glad I didn't 
bring along more than two youngsters. This Rio 
fashion of dizzy pictures in black-and-white tiles 
on sidewalks has gone to your heads." 

He dragged the unwilling Peter and the excited 
Nancy along the street and into a coffee shop. 
The children had noticed several in each block, 
but this was their first experience inside of one. 

It was cool in the coffee shop after the heat of 
the sun, with marble-topped tables and sawdust 
on the floor. Peter and Nancy looked at the big 



A CITY OF DIZZY SIDEWALKS 


199 



Ewing Galloway 

DIZZY PICTURES IN BLACK AND WHITE TILES ON 
SIDEWALKS 

mirrors, the vivid paintings, and the elaborately 
tiled ceiling. 

“Almost like the sidewalks!” Peter exclaimed. 
Coffee was served to Uncle Lee in a tiny, thim¬ 
ble-like cup, but Peter and Nancy drank pineapple 
juice from tall glasses. There were automatic 
sugar bowls on the tables, and several of the 
patrons squirted sugar onto the floor to test them. 
Then they put sugar into their coffee. With ex¬ 
pressive fingers they made gestures for extra 
coffee. 

Out on the street once more, Peter and Nancy 












200 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 



Ewing Galloway 

A MAIN STREET IN RIO DE JANEIRO’S BUSINESS 
DISTRICT 


found that they were still walking on those en¬ 
trancing white sidewalks with designs in black 
tiles. And such designs! Not only were there huge 
scrolls beneath their hurrying feet, but anchors 
and cartwheels as well. At one corner the Mac- 
Larens encountered such a maze of curves and 
zigzags that Uncle Lee hailed a taxi. 

“I’ll be getting dizzy myself if I don’t look out!” 
he exclaimed. “We’ll stop in at the art school on 
our way to the hotel. And we might visit the 
National Library.” 












A CITY OF DIZZY SIDEWALKS 


201 


The art school and the library were particularly 
interesting. They had had their beginnings in the 
treasures that were brought to Brazil-by King 
Joao on his flight from Portugal. Since Peter and 
Nancy could not read any of the books, they waited 
impatiently for Uncle Lee to take them to the 
Monroe Palace at the end of the avenue. It was 
an ornate and attractive building, meaning much 
to the children. It was named in honor of a Pres¬ 
ident of the United States. 

The post office amused rather than impressed 
Peter and Nancy. As the National Library filed 
its authors by their first names, so the post office 
listed its patrons by their first names. 

On the following afternoon John Reed called 
at the Palace Hotel to take Peter and Nancy on 
a long sight-seeing tour. They visited dim cathe¬ 
drals, delightful parks, sandy beaches, and wound 
up in the late afternoon by visiting the Telegrafo 
Geral , Rio's most historic building. It was once 
the royal home of King Joao. Later it became 
the palace of Don Pedro. More important still, it 
was here that Princess Isabel signed her procla¬ 
mation freeing the slaves. 

On the following day Peter and Nancy enjoyed 
varying experiences. They watched a “white- 
wings,” that is, a worker dressed all in white, 
scrub the market place. Then they visited the 
“Church of the Rock,” where pilgrims climb the 
long stairway on their knees. By evening the 
lights were twinkling all along the Avenida Beira 




Ewing Galloway 

THE RIDE TO SUGAR LOAF MOUNTAIN WAS MADE 
IN QUEER TROLLEY CARS 






A CITY OF DIZZY SIDEWALKS 


203 


Mar which John Reed declared to be the finest 
seaside drive in the world. 

The third morning found the MacLarens ready 
to climb Sugar Loaf Mountain with John Reed. 

“We aren’t going across in that tiny car held 
by those little wires, are we?” Nancy inquired 
when they arrived at the foot of the mountain. 

The queer trolley, which proved to be really 
quite a substantial car, was run by cables. The 
first lap of the journey carried this car to the 
top of Urea. Women screamed and several men 
looked very pale; but no one got out. The second 
part of the journey began with a car sliding out 
upon the cables between Urea and Sugar Loaf. 
In the middle of the perilous journey the car 
began to sag and sway. 

“The cables are going to break!” shrieked a 
nervous woman. “Oh, I know we’re going to fall!” 

“This trolley never has fallen, madam,” an old 
traveler spoke up, “and we don’t think it ever 
will.” 

Toward the end it looked as though the car 
would surely crash into the rocky cliffs ahead. 
But it landed with only a slight jar. The silent 
MacLarens breathed more freely. 

The day was clear. The whole bay was spread 
out like a large fairy ring. Light green shaded 
into darker green, with deep purple in the shal¬ 
lows near the land. Islands of exquisite greenery 
rose out of milk-white surf. The city itself, Peter 
and Nancy noticed, was divided into steep ravines 




204 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


and high peaks, with glimpses of splendid build¬ 
ings and lovely parks. But looking back again at 
the bay, Peter and Nancy knew that Rio de 
Janeiro needed no adornment by man. And yet 
it had been misnamed, John Reed said. Among 
the navigators who first came were Joao Manoel 
and Amerigo Vespucci. They arrived on the first 
of January in the year 1501; and their first view 
of Sugar Loaf convinced them that it was at 
the mouth of a mighty river. They called the site 
“Rio” for river and “de Janeiro” for of January— 
River of January. 

“It was a lovely mistake to make,” said Nancy 
softly. 



THREE SHORT STOPS ON A 
LONG COAST 


P ETER and Nancy were puzzled by the printed 
names on the schedule. 

“I thought we were going to stop at Bahia, 
Pernambuco, and Para,” Peter said, as the steamer 
plowed northward from Rio de Janeiro. 

“That’s our fault, not the Steamship Com¬ 
pany’s,” Uncle Lee grinned cheerfully. “Recife 
really is Pernambuco, and Belem is Para. The 
confusion results from the fact that foreigners 
call the cities after their states. Bahia happens 
to be in the state of Bahia; so that’s simple.” 

“We’re homeward bound,” Nancy spoke up. 
“It’s been wonderful, but I’m glad to be heading 
toward the United States of America. I suppose 
we’re steaming into Bahia. It’s a beautiful bay, 
but it doesn’t compare with Rio de Janeiro.” 
“Nothing compares with Rio,” Peter declared. 
Then he caught sight of the modern wharves in 
the business district with its markets, custom¬ 
house and office buildings. Directly up from this 
narrow beach rose perpendicular, hundred-foot 
cliffs. The main part of the city had perched 
itself on these cliffs. 

“Let’s climb up and see the sights!” Peter cried. 
“I suppose there are elevators and cable railways; 
but I feel like making a good stiff climb.” 


205 



Underwood <P Underwood 


LA CERDA TOWER, A UNIQUE PUBLIC ELEVATOR 
IN BAHIA 












THREE SHORT STOPS ON A LONG COAST 


207 


“I'll go with you,” Uncle Lee agreed. “I’d have 
to wear a coat if I rode on the railway. Brazilians 
are very fussy about coats.” 

“John Reed said this town was four-fifths 
black,” Peter said. “Most of the Negroes Fve 
known back home were easygoing.” 

The moment that Peter and Nancy went ashore 
they realized that Bahia had once been a great 
slave mart. It was to Bahia that African slaves 
were shipped in great numbers to work on the 
cacao and tobacco plantations. In doorways of 
shacks and houses alike, lolled men and women 
with black children sprawling at their feet. The 
vile odor of Bahia cigars was everywhere, for 
even children puffed at tobacco. 

“More colored houses!” exulted Nancy. “These 
aren't pastel colors, Uncle Lee. Never have I seen 
such vivid blues, such bright greens and yellows, 
and such astonishing purples.” 

Here was a town of old buildings and numer¬ 
ous parks. There was a Portuguese fort; and on 
one hilltop shone a dazzling white cathedral 
reached by about three hundred and sixty-five 
steps. On certain feast days, Nancy learned, the 
faithful ascend these steps on their knees. 

Through the streets flowed the traffic of the 
city. Every cart seemed to be trundling some¬ 
thing—tobacco, cotton, or goatskins—to the wait¬ 
ing ships in the harbor. Perhaps in some of those 
shipments would be found gold or diamonds. 
Brazil, before the diamond fields of South Africa 



208 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


were discovered, boasted the richest diamond 
mines in the world. That was the reason, said 
Uncle Lee, that the Dutch and Portuguese fought 
each other for Bahia. And it was here to Bahia 
that kidnaped slaves were brought, long after 
slavery was abolished. Today, with its stout 
black women in their lace-trimmed dresses, the 
old town seemed peaceful and quiet. 

The MacLarens went back reluctantly to the 
ship which was ready to sail. 

“Pernambuco next!” Peter announced. 

“Recife!” Nancy corrected. “Pve just found 
out that Recife means reef. It's hard to get into 
the inner harbor on account of the reef, but Uncle 
Lee says our boat will make it.” 

Coming upon an unexpected scene, Peter and 
Nancy stared curiously at the strange South 
American city of Recife. They were amazed to 
see canals running through the town, canals that 
some of the passengers declared reminded them 
of Venice. Uncle Lee sniffed at the idea and in¬ 
formed his charges that at low tide the canals 
were nothing more than marshes. 

Peter and Nancy, however, were surprised and 
delighted. The canals divided the city into three 
sections, and the bridges across the canals did 
remind the children of Venice. The streets were 
so narrow that they made the buildings appear 
rather higher than they were. It was uncomfort¬ 
ably warm, and there were almost as many black 
people on the streets as there were in Bahia. Ox- 



THREE SHORT STOPS ON A LONG COAST 


209 



Courtesy Pan American Union 

WHARVES AT THE PORT OF PERNAMBUCO 


carts, laden with sugar and cotton, congested the 
business streets; and street cars clanged noisily 
whenever they passed. 

Uncle Lee pointed out some particularly lovely 
old houses, the entire fronts of which were of 
porcelain tiles imported from Europe. The whole 
town seemed quaint and the citizens easygoing. 

“John Reed says Brazil is known as the ‘Land of 
Manana,’ or the country of tomorrow,” said Peter. 

“That's true,” Uncle Lee remarked quietly, “but 
not in the sense John meant it.” 





210 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


Peter flushed, and Nancy said, “You mean, 
Uncle Lee, that Brazil isn't just slow?" 

“I think it will grow into a very great country 
some day," Uncle Lee replied. 

“Anyway, it's hot and sugary, just as John said 
it would be," Peter insisted. “Say, these buildings 
look Dutch, with their peaked gables and dormer 
windows." 

“Yes, they are Dutch," Uncle Lee agreed. “So 
are those tiles. Dutch influence is to be seen in 
much of the architecture. A ruling governor 
general of Holland once had his capital here." 

The little party returned to the boat in high 
good spirits. 

“On to Para, the Paris of the Jungle!" Peter 
exclaimed. “John Reed said it was called Paris." 

“One of Uncle Lee's friends called it a rubber 
city." Nancy took a comfortable deck chair be¬ 
tween Peter and Uncle Lee. “Rubber-town doesn't 
sound Parisian." 

“Both of your ideas are fairly accurate," Uncle 
Lee decided. “Para made its money during the 
rubber boom and spent it like water for fine build¬ 
ings and splendid boulevards. There are well 
over two hundred thousand citizens in the city 
even today, and I believe they're all fairly happy." 

Uncle Lee got up and wandered over to the rail. 

“Want to see the Amazon?" he inquired. 

“Yes! Where?" Peter and Nancy were in¬ 
stantly beside him. “Where?" 

“Down there!" Uncle Lee pointed. 






Ewing Galloway 

A PEDDLER WITH BANANAS AND MELONS FOR 
THE MARKET, PARA 



212 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


“I don't see any river," Peter began; and then 
he yelled, “Why, the water is brownish!" 

“Does the Amazon make the blue ocean look like 
that?" shouted Nancy. 

“Yes, it does," Uncle Lee declared, adding that 
the Amazon could be followed for a whole day 
before reaching Para by its dirty brown color. 

Para, being practically on the equator and 
close to the sea, had the reputation of being very 
warm and muggy. It was. But that same warm 
mugginess was what made the flowers and the 
fruits grow so big and beautiful, and the trees 
reach such astounding perfection. 

The sidewalks in front of the hotel to which 
Uncle Lee took Peter and Nancy, were broad and 
white and glaring in the sunlight. After dinner 
the MacLarens joined the throngs of well-dressed 
people who came to sit at the small tables and 
to sip their drinks. 

“Three glasses of assahy ," was Uncle Lee's 
order. 

“What's assahy?" Peter and Nancy asked to¬ 
gether. 

“It's a nonalcoholic and very refreshing drink," 
Uncle Lee explained, “made from the fruit of the 
assahy palm." 

Sipping the strange drink was not at all un¬ 
pleasant. 

“This square," Uncle Lee told the children, “is 
the Praga da Republica; and that white marble 
building over there with its Corinthian pillars is 




Ewing Galloway 

SHELLING BRAZIL NUTS FOR SHIPMENT 




214 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


the Paz Theater. It looks lovely, doesn't it, 
through the palms and gardens? You'll see a good 
many fine pragas or parks in the city, though I 
rather imagine you youngsters will be more inter¬ 
ested in the markets." 

Morning found the MacLarens on the open quay 
which was called the Ver-o-peso. Uncle Lee said 
it meant, “See the weight." Little sailboats with 
bright-colored sails of red, yellow, blue, or pink, 
brought in their strange fish, including a great 
many of the dried pirarucu. 

In an open shed was housed the general market, 
with a variety of fish, fruits and vegetables as 
well as curios and skins. 

“This is the best ever!" Peter shouted. “Things 
we've hardly seen before! Look at the nuts!" 

There were great piles of castanhas or Brazil 
nuts, close beside hills of black beans and cacao. 

“What's that stuff?" Nancy asked, pausing be¬ 
side a mound of ground-up bark. 

“That's cheiro de mulata ." Uncle Lee grinned. 
“The native women sprinkle it in their hair. It 
smells good and brings them good fortune in love." 

“I'd rather buy one of those bows and arrows," 
Peter declared. “Or a parrot or a live monkey 
or maybe a jaguar skin. The kids back home 
would think it was a leopard." 

“You two will have to be content with a bag of 
castanhas," Uncle Lee laughed. 

“Oh, you mean Brazil nuts," said Nancy. 

“He means nigger toes," corrected Peter. 



THE BIGGEST UNCROWDED HIGHWAY 


J OHN REED says the Amazon’s a whale of 
a river,” Peter remarked as he slammed into 
the little screened stateroom of the flat-bottomed, 
wood-burning river boat. “And it is! The trees 
along its shores are really gigantic, and there are 
whole forests of palms. I’d like to go inland with 
a machete and cut my way through.” 

“How about snakes and other animals of the 
jungle?” Nancy gave a shivery little shrug. 

“Oh, the alligators are near the river and so 
are the water snakes. The vipers slither away, 
and a jaguar wouldn’t bother me if I didn’t 
bother him, I guess” Peter paused, suddenly 
sober. “But they say the wild boar really is dan¬ 
gerous. He has fangs as shiny and as strong as 
ivory.” 

“You’d be more apt to see partridges and ducks, 
Peter,” Uncle Lee offered, “and there’d be plenty 
of deer and monkeys. Birds of gold and purple 
and red would fly before you through the under¬ 
brush. And right now you’d be most apt to meet 
a goodly number of mild-mannered cattle. These 
jungles near Belem, or Para, are devoted largely 
to raising beef. The cowboys spend a good deal 
of their time hunting the alligators that attack 
the cows when they go down to the shore to 
drink.” 


215 


216 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 



Ewing Galloway 

ALLIGATORS AND TURTLES ABOUND IN THE 
JUNGLE WATERS 


The steamer threaded its way through a maze 
of islands before coming out into the main stream. 
There was no one channel, however, but often¬ 
times several channels side by side. There were 
frequent stops when the boat ran into deep banks 
of mud. 

Here and there appeared a thatched hut. Naked 
brown children played on the doorstep. Parents, 
almost as naked as the children, watched their 
antics. All had kinky hair and white-toothed 
smiles. 

“Every family has its dugout canoe instead of 
its car,” Peter observed. 

“Most of the travel is by water, of course,” 
Uncle Lee put in. “The jungle is so thick that 





THE BIGGEST UNCROWDED HIGHWAY 


217 


getting through it is a job. The natives don’t 
hanker after hard labor when their needs are 
right at their doors.” 

“I thought,” said Nancy, “that the Amazon 
would be crowded with steamers. One of our 
books said it was ‘The common highway of na¬ 
tions.’ ” 

“The rubber boom has died down, hasn’t it?” 
Peter inquired. 

“Not entirely,” corrected Uncle Lee. “It will 
revive again. Look over there on that bank. Those 
are rubber trees.” 

“Where? Which trees?” Peter and Nancy 
asked. 

“I imagine you’re trying to see something that 
looks like the ‘rubber plant’ at home.” Uncle Lee 
chuckled. “The rubber tree doesn’t look like rub¬ 
ber, as it happens. See those plain, everyday sort 
of trees over there with the small, thin leaves? 
Well, those are rubber trees.” 

Peter and Nancy both looked disappointed, and 
Uncle Lee continued. 

“When tapped,” he said, “they give forth latex, 
a milky sort of fluid that has to be cooked over 
a fire until it becomes a sticky dark mass. Latex 
must be collected daily, and that’s really quite 
a job.” 

“Why?” asked Peter. “Sounds simple enough.” 

“It isn’t,” Uncle Lee insisted. “Those wild 
trees, as you notice, do not grow in compact 
groves. They’re scattered throughout the forest, 




Ewing Galloway 

TAPPING A RUBBER TREE IN BRAZIL 



THE BIGGEST UNCROWDED HIGHWAY 


219 


and it isn’t easy getting through jungle. Since 
the natives don’t need money for anything, they 
choose not to work.” 

“I suppose that’s where slavery came in,” Peter 
remarked. “John Reed said the early rubber 
gatherers forced the natives to work whether they 
wanted to or not. It must have been an exciting 
time.” 

“It must have been a terrible time,” Nancy put 
in. “Why don’t the rubber men plant the trees in 
groves?” 

“They could,” Uncle Lee answered. “But in the 
wild state the trees grew scattered through the 
jungle and no one bothered to cultivate and trans¬ 
plant them. However, when the demand for rub¬ 
ber became greater, the British planted groves in 
Borneo and in the Malay states where labor was 
cheap. The same thing could be done here if the 
demand warranted it.” 

“I believe, after all,” said Peter, “that I’ll come 
here and gather rubber. Say! Are we stuck?” 

“I think not,” said Uncle Lee calmly. “Prob¬ 
ably stopping at a fazenda .” 

“A what?” asked Peter and Nancy together. 

“Plantation in English, my dears,” Uncle Lee 
explained. “Hacienda in Spanish and fazenda 
in Portuguese. Most of our passengers and crew 
are Portuguese. Wish I could speak it.” 

Peter descended to the lower deck. The Portu¬ 
guese laborers were loading on jugs of sugar, 
rum, bags of cacao and Brazil nuts, and stacks 



220 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


of dried fish. When the boat stopped, the mos¬ 
quitoes became very troublesome. 

Sometimes the river was so wide that Peter 
and Nancy could not see either shore. At other 
times it narrowed so surprisingly that Nancy felt 
as though she could reach out and pick clusters 
of orange blossoms and some purple flowers that 
looked so big and lovely against the mass of green. 

“More vines, more trees, more palms!” By the 
second day out, Peter was beginning to complain 
of the sameness. 

Then the small town of Santarem appeared with 
its red-tiled roofs shining in the sun. Natives 
came out in canoes to sell stained and decorated 
gourds. Although only about three hundred miles 
from Para, the town seemed carved out of the 
wilderness. 

There was another three hundred miles before 
Manaos came into view; and at last the steamer 
stopped at a small port which was the point of 
departure for the Madeira River. 

Still further on Peter and Nancy saw the Rio 
Negro or Black River. The water of this stream 
was so very dark that for several miles after it 
joined the Amazon its color showed as a separate 
stream. 

“What causes the dark color?” Peter asked. 

“Vegetation of its upper banks,” Uncle Lee 
explained. “There’s luxuriant growth such as 
you never dreamed. By the way, we’re going up 
about nine miles to Manaos.” 




Ewing Galloway 

“MORE VINES, MORE TREES, MORE PALMS!” 











222 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


“Never heard of it,” said Peter indifferently. 
“I suppose it’s like the rest of these little river 
towns.” 

“Peter!” Nancy was chagrined. “Haven't you 
been in South America long enough to know that 
here the usual thing that you expect turns out to 
be the unusual?” 

The city of Manaos proved to be a surprise even 
to Nancy who had learned to expect surprises. 
After miles and miles of more vines, more trees, 
and more palms, the city of Manaos loomed up 
like a magic mushroom growth. This, the second 
greatest rubber port in South America, was al¬ 
most as famous as Para (Belem) or Iquitos. 

Over the cluster of red roofs rose the dome of 
a big opera house. Beside the opera house stood 
a huge brewery. At the water front there were 
large, floating docks. Peter immediately guessed 
that they were designed to adapt themselves to 
the rise and fall of the river. 

It was toward dusk when the MacLarens went 
ashore. Peter tried vainly to suppress his surprise 
and delight when he found himself on one of the 
best-lighted streets in South America. 

The big opera house was used also as a munic¬ 
ipal theater. The MacLarens found the building 
at the end of the principal boulevard. Its dome 
was decorated with vivid designs in bright colors, 
and when either the street lights or the sun shone 
on it, it was very striking. 

“Manaos,” explained Uncle Lee, “made its 



THE BIGGEST UNCROWDED HIGHWAY 


223 


money during the rubber boom. It has slumped 
more than Para, but it may prosper again some 
day. Want to take a trolley ride after dinner?” 

“Yes! Yes, indeed!” cried both Peter and 
Nancy. 

To their amazement the trolleys were crowded. 
The tram line seemed to be the greatest attraction 
in a town of seventy-five thousand people. 

“Why should all these people want to ride?” 
Nancy whispered. “I never saw so many brown 
and black people so dressed up.” 

“IPs certainly hot and close,” Peter complained. 
“Wish I didn’t have to wear a coat.” 

The car started up at high speed. So pleasant 
a breeze was created that all the patrons beamed 
delight. Peter and Nancy smiled back at Uncle 
Lee to let him know they were enjoying them¬ 
selves. 

The tram line was built at the height of the 
rubber prosperity. It ran far into the jungle with 
its great vines, its tall cool trees, and its wonderful 
orchids. Peter and Nancy were astounded and 
delighted to be seeing the jungle close at hand so 
safely, so pleasantly, and so comfortably. 

Back at the hotel a traveler, who spoke English, 
told the MacLarens that if they went up beyond 
Iquitos they would see Indians in bark shirts with 
teeth filed to sharp points. Peter and Nancy, 
however, assured Uncle Lee that they were per¬ 
fectly content to remain in Manaos and to ride 
on the trolley. 



THE MAGIC CITY THAT WAS NEVER 
FOUND 


T HE coffee-brown river was coppery with the 
setting sun. Then night folded suddenly down 
on the tall trees interlaced with vines, and over 
the groves of palm trees. Returning to Para down 
the Amazon River was not nearly so amusing 
as the trip up the river had been, even though the 
boat was making better time. In the screened 
stateroom, Peter and Nancy and Uncle Lee lolled 
in canvas chairs. The meal of baked turtle, rice, 
black beans and farinha was being “polished off,” 
as Uncle Lee said, with a few oranges. 

“Ever heard of El Dorado?” Uncle Lee inquired 
out of a clear sky. 

“I can't place it right now,” Peter answered. 
“Are we going there?” Nancy asked. 

Uncle Lee replied, “Yes—and no. I'll describe 
it for you. The location, so an adventurer with 
an imagination disclosed, was somewhere in the 
region of the Guianas, or possibly near the Ori¬ 
noco in Venezuela. That doesn't matter so much. 
It's the description of El Dorado that will interest 
you youngsters.” 

“Go ahead,” said Peter indifferently. 

“Please tell us about it,” invited Nancy, nudg¬ 
ing Peter to be polite. 

Uncle Lee pretended not to notice. 


224 


THE MAGIC CITY THAT WAS NEVER FOUND 225 


“El Dorado,” he said, speaking slowly, “was 
said to be built in the middle of a great white 
lake, presumably on an island where the flowers 
were mostly orchids, the trees heavy with fruit, 
and the beaches golden sand. The smallest house 
surpassed in grandeur the palaces of the Incas. 
The children played with golden toys and walked 
on streets paved with gold. The kitchen utensils 
were usually of silver but oftentimes the handles 
would be studded with diamonds. Every house 
boasted a garden in which fountains played over 
life-size statues of solid gold. Figures of birds and 
of beasts were all of gold or silver, whichever 
suited the taste of the owner. The clothes were 
of such exquisite material that they sparkled in 
the sunlight as though each strand had been 
woven with diamond dust.” 

“Do you expect us to believe that there is such 
a city?” scoffed Peter. 

“Or ever was such a city?” Nancy exclaimed, 
although her cheeks were quite as red as Peter’s 
with excitement. 

“It’s a good thing,” Uncle Lee scolded, “that 
everybody wasn’t as incredulous as you two 
youngsters. Why, it was just such descriptions 
that set young men of Europe to dreaming wild 
dreams. The story of El Dorado was the direct 
incentive for the explorations that took place in 
Venezuela and the Guianas. But maybe the ad¬ 
venturer told it much more convincingly than I 
did.” 



226 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


“You told it beautifully, Uncle Lee,” Nancy 
declared. “I'd just as soon hear it again.” 

“Are we going into the Guianas?” Peter asked, 
practically. 

“Yes, we are. I want you to get a slant at them, 
anyway, as they are different from other countries 
in South America,” Uncle Lee replied. 

“How different?” Peter and Nancy asked eag¬ 
erly. Perhaps, after all, El Dorado was not merely 
a myth. 

“They belong to nations in Europe,” Uncle Lee 
explained. “French Guiana belongs to France, 
Dutch Guiana to Holland—” 

“And British Guiana to England,” Peter com¬ 
pleted. 

To their intense delight Jimmy Dustin was 
waiting for Peter and Nancy at their hotel in 
Para. He had promised Uncle Lee to take them 
over the Guianas. 

“You'll get a pretty good view of the topog¬ 
raphy, anyway,” Jimmy declared. “You'll have 
to take my word for the rest. The three Guianas 
are in a class by themselves, topographically as 
well as in other ways. They're a body of high¬ 
lands sloping to the sea in front, to the basin of 
the Amazon on one side, to the Orinoco on another 
and toward the jungle in the rear. All the civiliza¬ 
tion is on the coast. In the lowlands you'll see 
sugar and coffee plantations. In the interior are 
Indian tribes and uncivilized Negroes. And in 
that same interior may be found hard woods, 



THE MAGIC CITY THAT WAS NEVER FOUND 227 



Ewing Galloway 

SUGAR CANE IN THE FIELDS 


precious stones, rubber trees, and wonderful 
grasslands for raising cattle. But none of it is 
developed.” 

“Lots of work ahead for fellows like me!” cried 
Peter. 

“Lots of opportunity, too,” Jimmy agreed. 

The day of the trip was very hot and sultry. 
The MacLarens were happy to soar again into the 
clear, cool blue sky. Cayenne, the capital of 
French Guiana, which Uncle Lee said was the 
smallest of the Guianas, appeared on an island 
just off the coast. A narrow strait separated it 
from the mainland. From the air, Cayenne looked 
as though it were a jumble of colored plaster 
houses with red-tiled roofs, set in a grove of palm 
trees, with a church steeple rising above the rest 
of the buildings. The population, as the plane 
swung lower, seemed to be largely mulatto. 





228 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 



THE FRENCH PENAL COLONY OF DEVIL’S ISLAND 

Then Jimmy swung the plane northwest for 
thirty miles. Below lay the French penal colony 
of Devil's Island, and its two companions, the 
Isles du Saint . 

‘The smallest island, almost hidden under palm 
trees, is Devil's Island," shouted Uncle Lee. “The 
largest one, with the big prison on the plateau and 
the hospital and commandant's house over there, 
is Isle Royale. The other one's St. Joseph. It's 
often called the Island of Misery because the men 
in those three long buildings are caged in win¬ 
dowless cells." 

Nancy shivered. 

“The tropical climate is hard on them after 
gentle France," Uncle Lee offered. “A good many 
come out only to die within the first six months. 






THE MAGIC CITY THAT WAS NEVER FOUND 229 


Well, on we go to Paramaribo, the capital of Dutch 
Guiana. We’ll have to follow the Surinam River 
inland about twenty miles. It would be fun if 
we had time to land and hear those Negroes talk¬ 
ing Dutch.” 

In the rich lands along the coast Negroes work¬ 
ing in the sugar cane looked up to wave. 

Peter exclaimed, “See those men with turbans! 
Look at the pigtails! And plenty of blacks!” 

“The turbans belong to East Indians and the 
pigtails to Chinese. They were brought over by 
the Dutch to work on the plantations,” said Uncle 
Lee. “Lots of Javanese among them.” 

Paramaribo looked like a town in Holland with 
its peaked roofs, its tiles, and its clean streets. 
Uncle Lee said that one-third of the people of Dutch 
Guiana lived in this city. It stretched out far be¬ 
yond the river banks, with thatched houses on the 
outskirts replacing the carefully built wooden and 
stucco houses of the town. 

“One of the important products in Dutch Gui¬ 
ana,” Uncle Lee volunteered, “is bauxite.” 

“Bauxite?” Peter and Nancy asked together. 

“Yes. It is used in making aluminum. We 
couldn’t keep house without it,” Uncle Lee ex¬ 
plained. “There are enormous beds of it out be¬ 
yond. It looks like white clay. Most of it is owned 
and managed by an American concern.” 

Barefoot children were playing on the river- 
bank, their brown bodies shining in the sun. 
They began to look like toy dolls as the plane rose. 



230 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 



Ewing Galloway 

A NAILLESS CRAFT ON A RIVER IN 
THE GUIANAS 


“On our way to British Guiana!” Uncle Lee 
shouted. “It is twice as large as Dutch Guiana. 
You'll like Georgetown." 

The plane sailed on over the ocean again and 
after several hours nosed inland to follow a river 
on either side of which were sugar estates. Co¬ 
conut palms, feather bamboo, and flower-covered 
trees edged the stream. 

Although Georgetown belonged to England, it 
looked more Dutch than British. Again Peter and 
Nancy beheld the peaked roofs of Holland. They 














THE MAGIC CITY THAT WAS NEVER FOUND 231 



Ewing Galloway 


GEORGETOWN LOOKED MORE DUTCH THAN BRITISH 

did not need Uncle Lee to assure them that the 
chief export was sugar. They saw sugar cane in 
the fields, sugar carried to factories, and sugar 
loaded at the docks. 

“There’s wealth in the hinterlands,” Jimmy 
cried. “Wild rubber, gold, and diamonds! And 
grass enough to raise the best stock on earth! 
But all that Georgetown can understand is sugar.” 

“I’d like to go into the interior.” Peter was 
serious. “John Reed said there’s a waterfall back 
there somewhere that they call Kaieteur. It’s five 
times as high as Niagara. It has a drop of eight 
hundred feet.” 

“It’s a fact,” agreed Jimmy. Then he added, 
“They say there’s a race of strange Indians living 







232 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


in the interior, too. Anyway, we're sure of what 
we see on the coast." 

“And the European governments aren't getting 
rich on their Guianas," Uncle Lee remarked. 

“Maybe those jungles hold fortunes." Nancy 
spoke up suddenly. “Maybe there is a sort of El 
Dorado." 

“I'd like to think there was," Peter declared 
happily. “But I'm afraid it's a city that will never 
be found." 



'LITTLE VENICE 1 


P ETER and Nancy chatted with Jimmy Dustin 
all the time that he was refueling his plane. 
Uncle Lee was busy planning the trip over Vene¬ 
zuela. 

“It was really Columbus who discovered Vene¬ 
zuela,Jimmy informed his friends. “It was on 
his third voyage. But Alonzo de Ojeda named the 
country. He had been on Columbus’ ship, but a 
year later he came over with his own fleet to look 
around. He found an Indian village built on piles 
in the splendid bay of Lake Maracaibo, and he 
said, ‘Ah! Little Venice!’ and Little Venice, or 
Venezuela, it has been called to this day.” 

“Venezuela is beautiful—so beautiful, in fact, 
that Columbus thought he had found a heaven on 
earth.” Jimmy helped Nancy into the cockpit. 
“You’ll see tropical plants growing right down 
to the water’s edge. Rich soil and plenty of water 
and wonderful vegetation! Venezuela’s the only 
country in South America whose shores are 
washed by the waters of the Caribbean Sea and 
the Atlantic Ocean. Plenty of water inland, too. 
The Orinoco River is big enough with its tribu¬ 
taries to water the country north, east, south, and 
west. Come on, Peter. We’re off for the land of 
rice and bananas, especially bananas.” 

“I’d like to live on bananas,” Peter declared. 


233 


234 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


“Just sit in a grass hammock in the sun and eat 
as many as I could hold! ,? 

“A lazy boy and a lazy climate. Venezuela needs 
energetic Americans." Uncle Lee had come up 
to the plane. “By the way, I have a message here. 
The third Reed boy, Bill, is going to meet us in 
Caracas. ,, 

“Hope he's as much fun as Dick and John," 
Peter said. 

“He will be," Nancy decided loyally. 

The plane rose high in the heavens. As it sped 
along Peter and Nancy began to see a new river 
below them that was yellow. All the sand that 
was coloring it had come from mountains to the 
west and from numberless little and big streams 
that fed the great central stream. And suddenly 
Peter and Nancy realized that they were no longer 
on the Amazon but on the Orinoco. Here was a 
country quite different from the jungles of the 
Amazon. On both sides of the river stretched vast 
llanos or meadows. Here cattle grazed in deep 
content. Herds consisting of thousands of them, 
it seemed! 

“Jerked beef and hides!" shouted Jimmy above 
the roar of the plane. 

Sugar-cane fields appeared from time to time 
and cotton fields as well. In some places the 
familiar cacao and coffee trees grew abundantly. 
Peter and Nancy recognized corn, tobacco, and 
wheat below them, but none of the plantings 
seemed to be very large. Rubber trees appeared 





Ewing Galloway 

THE LAND OF RICE AND BANANAS—ESPECIALLY 
BANANAS! 






236 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


A LOAD OF GARLIC FROM A VENEZUELAN FARM 


here and there, but there was not a grove of them 
in sight. 

Habitations were few and far between until 
the city of Ciudad Bolivar came into view on the 
right bank of the river. Its red roofs rose in ter¬ 
races upon low hills, and there were several steam¬ 
ers at the wharf. On closer inspection the roofs 
were found to cover one-story houses built about 
courts or patios in Spanish style. Uncle Lee said 
that Spanish was about the only language spoken. 

The plane roared down and over the town. Now 
Peter and Nancy could see patient donkeys carry- 











“LITTLE VENICE 


237 


ing produce. There were more than the usual 
number of horses on the streets. These horses, 
Uncle Lee explained, were of a fine breed and 
quite common on the llanos. Every rich plantation 
owner boasted a string of such horses. 

There was one product seen on the streets of 
Ciudad Bolivar that amused Peter and Nancy 
greatly. That product was grass hammocks, and 
a number of slow-moving Indians were observed 
carrying bundles to the waiting steamers. 

“Most of the people of this valley sleep in ham¬ 
mocks,Jimmy declared. “If we were to land, 
we'd probably sleep that way ourselves." 

As the plane thundered on down the channel, 
large farmhouses with pleasant verandas would 
come into view now and then. Numerous children 
ran out to wave at the plane. 

At last the great delta, formed by the deposits 
of the thick yellow waters, was directly below the 
plane. This delta, Uncle Lee said, was as large 
as the State of New Jersey. 

“I always thought a delta was just sand," Peter 
confessed to Nancy. “Look at all those different 
channels down there. They're all lined with jun¬ 
gle. I can almost see the bananas. Jimmy's flying 
lower now. I actually can see bananas! Look at 
that hut. I'll bet there is a naked boy lying in a 
hammock eating. Oh, for the life on a delta!" 

Jimmy had turned north to the island of 
Trinidad. 

“The island was discovered by Columbus on his 




Ewing Galloway 

WEAVING A HAMMOCK, VENEZUELA 





‘LITTLE VENICE 


239 


third voyage," Uncle Lee spoke up when the green 
shores came in sight. 

“What a voyage that must have been!'' Peter 
laughed. “I happen to know all about this, how 
the Indians called it ‘Land of the Hummingbird,' 
but Columbus saw three mountain peaks and 
called it Trinidad, meaning three." 

Jimmy landed his passengers and took off 
directly again. 

Such a miscellaneous crowd as the little party 
of three encountered on the wide, well-paved 
streets in Port of Spain! Spaniards, British, 
Dutch, French, Chinese, Portuguese, and Negroes 
rubbed shoulders with Venezuelans who had come 
across the narrow strait to do business. 

“We haven't much time," Uncle Lee said, “but 
I know you'll want to see the asphalt lake. About 
a sixty-mile trip!" 

“So that's why Port of Spain has such fine 
streets!" Peter exclaimed. “An asphalt lake!" 

“Yes. And it happens to be the world's greatest 
asphalt supply," said Uncle Lee briefly. 

“Imagine a lake of asphalt!" Nancy was curi¬ 
ous. “Asphalt is hard, and I never saw a hard 
lake." 

Both Peter and Nancy were disappointed when 
they arrived at the so-called “Pitch Lake." It 
was neither pitch nor lake but just a concave 
black patch covering about one hundred acres. 

Peter walked out upon the surface, stepping 
carefully. The lake held his weight. Yet Uncle 




240 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 



Ewing Galloway 


MINING RAW ASPHALT AT PITCH LAKE ON THE 
ISLAND OF TRINIDAD 

Lee declared that holes chopped out by picks filled 
up again in about a day and a night. It was 
very mysterious and could not be explained. 

“This asphalt has to be sent in baskets down 
a cable line,” Uncle Lee explained. “When first 
taken out, it’s liquid or at least pliable. But once 
in the ships, it congeals again and has to be 
chopped out.” 

“But it certainly makes good streets,” Nancy 
said; then she turned to Uncle Lee again. “Aren’t 
those oil derricks over there?” 






‘LITTLE VENICE 9 


241 


“Yes,” Uncle Lee replied. “But there isn't 
time to visit them on this trip. We must catch 
the boat for La Guaira.” 

“I thought we were on our way to Caracas,” 
Peter objected. “I hoped we were surely going 
to Caracas.” 

“La Guaira happens to be the easiest port by 
which we can reach Caracas,” said Uncle Lee. 
“If you were a good geographer, you'd realize that 
Caracas is up from the sea about seven miles as 
the crow flies. By rail or motor it's nearer twenty- 
five.” 

The water trip was delightful, but La Guaira 
was so terribly hot that it failed to impress Peter 
and Nancy. A great mountain screened the town 
from the country that lay beyond. The fact that 
this nine-thousand-foot mountain called La Silla, 
meaning “The Saddle,” shut off the breeze seemed 
no excuse for the uncomfortable atmosphere. 
Never had heat seemed so hard to bear. Uncle 
Lee's party scarcely glanced at the pretty churches 
or at the old fort on the hill. They were anxious 
to be on the train, climbing up into the cool 
freshness of a mountain breeze. 

Through cacao groves, past a red-tiled suburb, 
and up, up, up through the hills wound the train. 
Peter and Nancy could now enjoy the lovely view 
of the Caribbean down below. Sometimes a tunnel 
hid the blue water from view. Oftentimes the 
train thundered noisily over a culvert, but always 
it climbed. 



242 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 



Ewing Galloway 

STRAW HATS AND PONCHOS, HIGH IN THE ANDES 

At last the jungle was left far below. Cacti 
appeared on the barren hills. The heavy, hot 
atmosphere of the coast was only a memory. The 
air was cool and clear and light. 

“They showed good sense in building the capital 
up here." Peter was delighted. “I suppose we're 
in the Andes." 

“We certainly are," Uncle Lee declared. “The 
Andes cut straight across Venezuela north and 
west of the Orinoco into the Caribbean. Caracas 
is about three thousand feet above sea level, and 
it's a mighty fine city of about one hundred and 





‘LITTLE VENICE’ 


243 


thirty-five thousand. Venezuela, as a whole, is 
rather scantily settled. I'd like to take you to 
Maracaibo, the great oil-boom city, or to Valencia, 
where many wealthy Venezuelans maintain their 
homes. But you'll have to be satisfied with 
Caracas." 

“ 'Little Venice' is certainly a misnomer," Peter 
declared. "Venezuela is truly a big country, with 
almost every product that any other South Ameri¬ 
can country has. Yes, I'll eat a banana." 

Uncle Lee had opened his bag and lifted out a 
surprise package. 

"Jimmy told me a story about some Venezuelan 
laborers," Peter remarked as he munched his 
banana with evident enjoyment. 

"What was it?" Nancy encouraged. 

"Well, it seems that there were two peons or 
laborers swinging in a grass hammock eating 
bananas when a North American came along. 

" 'Why don't you fellows get busy and work?' 
he asked. 

" 'Why should we?' the fellows inquired. 

" 'To make money,' the North American an¬ 
swered. 

" 'What would we do then?' the peons asked. 

" 'Make more money,' the North American ex¬ 
plained. 'Work and save until you have enough 
to stop work altogether and just rest.' 

" 'We're doing that now,' declared the peons." 

Nancy laughed heartily. Contentment, she 
thought, was surely a virtue. 



A SHORT FINISH THAT SEEMED LONG 


“TTELLO, there! I suppose this is the Mac- 
Laren party—Peter and Nancy and Uncle 
Lee. Pm Bill—Bill Reed. Dick wrote from Lima 
about you, and John wrote from Rio de Janeiro. 
Pm certainly glad to see you. You'll like Ca¬ 
racas.” 

The MacLarens decided instantly that they 
would like any city that was to be explored with 
Bill Reed. He was tall and slim, and his shining 
blue eyes were fringed with dark lashes. His 
smile was as gay as Dick's and he looked to be 
quite as dependable as John. Moreover, he was 
a loyal friend to Venezuela and especially fond 
of Caracas. He pointed out that although the 
River Guaire flowed through the center of the 
town and caused the fogs that sometimes settled 
there, Caracas was most healthful. 

“I'd really enjoy a fog after so much sunshine,” 
Nancy declared. 

The setting of Caracas was delightful. All 
around were the blue-green mountains whose 
slopes, Bill pointed out, were fringed with coffee 
groves and sugar plantations. 

Although Bill's car sped along broad avenues 
and through lovely parks, Peter and Nancy no¬ 
ticed a great many narrow, rocky streets off the 
main boulevards. The Avenida Paraiso , with its 


244 


A SHORT FINISH THAT SEEMED LONG 


245 


many carriages and cars should, Bill insisted, 
remind Peter and Nancy of the Champs Ely sees 
in Paris. But somehow it did not. There were a 
great many women strolling along dressed in 
Paris styles, but there were also many women 
draped in the familiar black mantas that Peter 
and Nancy had learned to associate with South 
America. The workmen wore narrow-brimmed, 
high-peaked straw hats that were assuredly never 
made in Paris. The laden donkeys and the lottery 
ticket men were South American, too. The great 
loads of coffee, tobacco, and the sugar and choco¬ 
late products brought pictures, not of France, but 
of nearly every country in South America. 

The Avenida Paraiso proved to be a most beau¬ 
tiful drive, with the finest homes in the city lining 
both sides of the street. It led far into the suburbs. 
Peter became so very much excited over the bull- 
ring which Bill passed on his way to the end of 
the street, that he scarcely noticed the statue at 
the end of the drive until Uncle Lee asked, “Well, 
Peter, what do you think of this gentleman? It 
strikes me that he has a North American counte¬ 
nance, and his costume appears to be reminiscent 
of Colonial days.” 

“W-w-why,” stammered Peter, “it's . . . what 
—what does it say? . . . 'Don Jorge Washington.' 
George Washington, sure as I'm alive! To think 
I'd find our first president here!” 

Bill drove the MacLarens back to the Plaza 
Bolivar in the center of the city. Here he pointed 



246 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 



Ewing Galloway 

“GEORGE WASHINGTON, SURE AS I’M ALIVE!” 

to the statue of the South American Liberator, 
Simon Bolivar. The great man sat proudly astride 
a fine horse. 

“This Plaza is the favorite loafing place of the 
city,” Bill informed his new-found friends. 
“Newspaper men, writers, students, and travelers 
congregate here along with the leisurely citizens. 
Almost everything important in Caracas is 
grouped around this square. Over there’s the 
cathedral, then the national Capitol, and further 
on the university. Just as the buildings center 
around this square, so all Venezuelan ideals center 
about Bolivar. He is so much admired that his 





A SHORT FINISH THAT SEEMED LONG 


247 



Underwood & Underwood 

ONE OF THE MANY STATUES OF SIMON BOLIVAR 
IN SOUTH AMERICA 


home, once used as a warehouse, has been dupli¬ 
cated. And of course you've seen his profile on 
coins and postage stamps." 

In the northern end of the town, Bill pointed 
out the Pantheon, which looked like a cathedral 
but which Bill said was the Westminster Abbey 
of Venezuela. Here were buried the great national 
heroes, including Bolivar himself. He was the 
man who had put an end to Spanish rule in South 
America. 

It was toward evening that Peter and Nancy 







248 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


really began to feel the true spirit of the city. Big 
as it was, it was really a leisurely city of palms 
and plazas and tinkling music. Peter and Nancy, 
on a little jaunt of their own with Bill Reed, 
climbed some of the lesser known rocky streets, 
and were thrilled to discover senoritas peeping 
from barred windows. The pale-pink and baby- 
blue houses delighted Nancy, and she enjoyed 
catching a glimpse of little patios riotous with 
flowers. Oftentimes, when she half smiled at some 
dark-eyed little girl, the dark-eyed little girl 
smiled back. Here was a gentle spirit of good will. 

There was another face that became quite as 
familiar to Peter and Nancy as that of Bolivar. 
It was the face of Guzman Blanco, a dictator, 
who had set up statues of himself and had had 
walls covered with his portrait. He had made it 
impossible to forget him, but Uncle Lee assured 
Peter and Nancy that this Venezuelan had really 
worked hard for the benefit of his land. 

Uncle Lee was becoming impatient to start 
home. When he mentioned the fact that a steam¬ 
ship was due at La Guaira to sail for New York 
in two days, Peter and Nancy realized suddenly 
that they were homesick. They sat in the rotunda 
of the hotel with Uncle Lee and looked sober. 

“It was seeing that statue of Don Jorge Wash¬ 
ington that made me feel as though I were a long 
way from home,” Peter explained. 

“With me it was seeing bananas and coffee be¬ 
ing shipped—perhaps right to our grocery store,” 



A SHORT FINISH THAT SEEMED LONG 


249 


Nancy confessed. “Everybody is so friendly about 
trade between the two countries.” 

Out of the sunlit patio strode Bill Reed in 
white flannels. With him came his two brothers, 
Dick and John. 

After much handshaking and laughter, Peter 
and Nancy asked, “Where’s Jimmy?” 

“Here! At your service!” Out of the clump of 
palm trees near the entrance emerged the tall, 
blue-eyed aviator who had shown Peter and Nancy 
so much of South America; and, within ten min¬ 
utes, Uncle Lee’s plans of returning home by 
steamboat were changed. Of course they would 
fly back. 

“We’re all invited to a party on the Martin 
Coffee Plantation,” Jimmy said, “and we’ll take 
off from there. This is to be a Good-Will party.” 

That last day in South America was a never- 
to-be-forgotten day. There was a last exciting 
packing of clothes, souvenirs, and papers. There 
was a swift, pleasant trip out on the mountain 
trails in a limousine that had been sent by Senor 
Martin to bring his guests to his palatial home. 

As the car purred along, Jimmy said, “You’ll 
see one of the finest coffee plantations in the 
world. These coffee trees are coddled. Look at 
the irrigation ditches.” 

“They’re certainly the sturdiest coffee trees I 
ever saw,” Nancy observed. “Uncle Lee says that 
the coffee raised here is as good as Mocha and is 
often sold for Mocha.” 



250 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 


“Senor Martin knows how to care for trees,” 
John spoke up. “When they’re young, he shades 
them to protect them from the sun. He plants 
the sprouts among banana plants! If you’ve ever 
watched a banana plant grow ...” 

“You can almost see bananas grow,” Dick 
agreed. “I suppose the wide banana leaves shade 
the little coffee trees like obliging umbrellas.” 

“That’s the idea,” John said. “Later on silk 
oak trees are planted to make just the right shade. 
These trees extend just above the coffee trees, 
and the sun sifts through in the proper amount.” 

“Let’s stop and pick a few of those bananas,” 
Bill suggested. “We might take a bunch along.” 

“No you don’t,” objected Jimmy. “I’ll have 
quite enough cargo in my plane.” 

The great white house with its wide veranda 
came in view. It appeared to be made of mar¬ 
ble. It stood in the midst of formal gardens and 
splashing fountains. Black servants appeared 
from the house and stables, as the car swung into 
the main drive. 

Senor Martin came down the wide steps and 
held out his hand to Uncle Lee. Behind him 
appeared a little girl of Nancy’s age, Senorita 
Rose Marie. 

“Is this Nancy?” she cried in perfect English. 

Nancy was so astounded to hear her own tongue 
from a little Spanish girl, that Uncle Lee hastened 
to explain. 

“Rose Marie was educated in Paris and Lon- 



A SHORT FINISH THAT SEEMED LONG 


251 


don,” he said. “She speaks three languages, 
Spanish, French and English.” 

“And I speak only one,” lamented Nancy. 
“Next year I shall start to learn Spanish. I want 
to be a good neighbor.” 

“You are a good neighbor,” Rose Marie de¬ 
clared, as she led Nancy through the great recep¬ 
tion and living rooms to her own delightful small 
apartment opening upon a patio with a fountain. 
“It is the heart—what you call the good will—that 
counts between neighbors.” 

The climax of the party was the evening dinner. 
Peter and Nancy enjoyed sea foods from the 
coast, the finest of Argentine beef, the best of 
alligator pears, and fragrant coffee from the 
Martin plantation. An orchestra played softly 
among the bower of palms and flowers outside the 
dining room. 

Peter and Nancy sat at one end of the long 
table, Rose Marie at Peter's right, Dick Reed at 
Nancy's left. John, Bill, and Jimmy were near 
Uncle Lee and Senor Martin with several other 
house guests between. Just before the black cof¬ 
fee was served a grinning Negro appeared in the 
doorway with the biggest frosted cake Peter and 
Nancy had ever beheld. He advanced and set it 
down in front of the two young guests. 

“You are to cut it, Nancy,” said Rose Marie. 

“It's a Good-Will cake!” Peter exclaimed. 

Peter and Nancy looked with delight at the 
white frosted top with its delicate tracery of palm 



252 


PETER AND NANCY IN SOUTH AMERICA 



Ewing Galloway 

THE PLANE HUMMED ON TOWARD HOME 


leaves and wild orchids. Two candy figures, 
Simon Bolivar and George Washington faced each 
other across the expanse of frosting. They were, 
after all, both loyal Americans. Whether they 
were North Americans or South Americans did 
not matter. 

At dawn the next morning the plane took off. 
Peter and Nancy waved back until the land of 
Bolivar was only a green spot on a blue ocean. 

Then they faced about. Jimmy Dustin’s plane 
with the little MacLaren party and the Reed boys 
aboard hummed on toward home. 





PRONOUNCING VOCABULARY 


PRONOUNCING VOCABULARY 


adobe (a-do'b6) 
alpaca (iil-p&k'a) 

Alto-Parana' (al'to-pa'-ra-na') 
Amazon (am'a-zSn) 

Ambato (am-ba'to) 

Amerigo Vespucci 

(a'-ma-re'go ves-poot'che) 

Andes (&n'dez) 

Arequipa (a'ra-ke'pa) 

Argentina (ar'-j6n-te'na) 
ascensor (a-sen's5r) 
assahy (a-sa'e) 

Asuncion (a-soon'syon') 

Atahualpa (a'ta-wal'pa) 

Avenida Beira Mar 

(a'v6n-e'da ba'ra mar') 

Avenida de Mayo 

(a'-v6n-e'da da ma'yo) 

Avenida Leandro Alem 

(a'v6n-e'da la-an'dro a-lan') 
Avenida Paraiso 

(a'v6n-e'da pa-ra-e'so) 

Avenida Rio Branco 

(a'v£n-e'da re'-o bran'ko) 

Bahamas (ba-ha'maz) 

Bahia (ba-e'a) 

Bahia Blanca (ba-e'a blan'ka) 
Balboa (bal-bo'a) 

Ballenita (bal-y6-ne'ta) 

Barra Grande (bar'ra grjin'da) 
Beira Mar (ba'ra mar') 

Belem (ba-l6N') 

Benalcazar, Sebastian de 

(ba'nal-ka'thar, sa-bas-tyan' da) 
Blanco, Guzman 

(blan'ko, gooth-man') 

Blancos (blan'kos) 

Bogota (bo'g6-ta') 
bola (bo'la) 

boleadoras (bo'la-a-do'ras) 

Bolivar, Simon (bo-le'var, se-mon') 
Bolivia (bo-le'vya) 


bombilla (bom-be'ya) 

Borneo (bor'ne-o) 
bougainvillea (boo'gin-vll'e-a) 

Braz Cubas (braz ko'bas) 

Brazil (bra-zel') 

Buenaventura (bwa'-na-v6n-too'ra) 
Buenos Aires (bua'nbs I'ras) 
Butantan (boo-tan'tan) 

cacao (ka-ka'o) 
cacique (ka-sek') 

Callao (kal-ya'6) 

Calle Florida (ka'lya flo-re'da) 
Cara (ka'ra) 

Caracas (ka-ra'kas) 

Caribbean (k^r'I-be'^n) 
casa (ka'sa) 

Casa Rosada (ka'sa ro-sii'da) 
castanhas (kas-ta'nya) 

Cauca (kou'ka) 

Cayenne (ka-€n') 

Cayo (ka'yo) 

Cerro, El (sSr'ro, 61) 

Cerro de Pasco (ser'rd da pas'k5) 
Chaco (cha'ko) 

Chagres (cha'grgs) 

Champs Elysees (shaN'za'le'za') 
Chan Chan (chan chan') 
chanduy (shan-dew'-y) 
cheiro-de-mulata 

(shay'rS da mdo-la'ta) 

Chicha (che'cha) 

Chile (che'la) 

Chimborazo (chlm'-bo-ra'zo) 
cholo (cho'lo) 
cinchona (sin-ko'na) 

Ciudad Bolivar 

(syoo-thafh' bo-li'var) 

Colombia (k6-16m'b£-a) 

Colon (ko-l5n') 

Colorados (ko-lo-ra'dos) 

Columbus (k6-lhm'biis) 

Corcovado (kor'ko-va'tho) 


254 


PRONOUNCING VOCABULARY 


255 


Cordilleras (kor'dll-yar'as) 
Corumba (ko-rdom-ba') 
Cotopaxi (ko'-td-pak'se) 
Cuba (ku'ba) 

Culebra (kdo-la'bra) 

Cuzco (kobs'ko) 

Diamantina (dya'man-te'na) 
Don Pedro (don pa'dro) 
Duran (dob-ran') 

Ecuador (ek'wa-dor) 

El Dorado (61 do-ra'do) 
empanadas (Sm-pa-na'das) 
Enrique (en-ree'kay) 
Epiphany (6-pIf'a-nl) 
Esmeraldas (6s'-ma-ral'das) 
estancia (6s-tan'sya) 

farinha (fa-re'nya) 
fazenda (fa-z6N'da) 
fleteros (fl6-ta'ros) 
flor del Inca (flor' d6l Ing'ka) 
Francisco (fran-ses'kd) 

Fray Bentos (fri bSn'tos) 

Gatun (ga-tdon') 

Gorgas (gor'g&s) 

Gorgona (gor-go'na) 

Gran Chaco (gran cha'ko) 
Guano (gwa'no) 

Guaqui (gwa'ke) 

Guarani (gwa-ra'ne) 

Guaruja (gwa-rdo'zha) 
Guayaquil (gwl'-a-kel') 
Guayas (gwi-as') 

Guayra (gwi'ra) 

Guianas (g6-a'nas) 

hacienda (a-sy6n'da) 

Honda (on'da) 

Huigra (we'gra) 

Iguassd (e'gua-sdo') 

Illimani (el'ye-ma'n6) 

Inca (ing'ka) 

Iquitos (6-ke'tos) 


Isle Royale (el' ry&'yal') 

Isles du Salut (el' dii sa-lii') 

Joao (zh6-ouN') 

Julio (hoo'le-o) 

Keieteur (ka-e-toor') 

La Guaira (la gwi'ra) 

La Paz (la pas') 

La Plata (la pla'ta) 

La Prensa (la, pran'sah) 

La Silla (la see'lyah) 

Latacunga (la'ta-koong'ga) 

Lengua (16ng'gwa) 

Lima (le'ma) 

Limon (le-mon') 
llama (lya'ma) 
llanos (lya'noz) 

machete (ma-cha'ta) 

Machu Picchu (ma'choo pek'choo) 
Madeira (ma-da'ra) 

Magdalena (mag'da-la'na) 
Magellan (ma-j6l'&n) 
manana (ma-nya'na) 

Manaos (ma-na'os) 

Manoel, Joao 

(ma-noo-61', zho-ouN') 
manta (man'ta) 

Maracaibo (ma'ra-ki'bo) 

Martin Gracia (mar-ten' gra-se'ii) 
mate (ma'ta) 

Mato Grosso (ma'too gros'oo) 
Minas Geraes (me'nas zh6-ris') 
Miraflores (me'-ra-flo'ras) 

Misti (mes't£) 

Monte vid’eu (mon'ta ved-aoo') 
Montevidio (mon'-ta-ve-fha'o) 
mula pasa (mu'la pa'sa) 
mussurana (moos'-oo-ra'na) 

Ojeda, Alonzo de 

(6-ha'fha, a-lon'zo da) 

Orinoco (o'ri-no'ko) 

Oroya (o-ro'ya) 

Oruro (o-rdo'ro) 



256 


PRONOUNCING VOCABULARY 


Palmira (pal-me'ra) 

Panama (pa'na-ma') 
papayas (pa-pa'yas) 

Para' (pa'ra') 

Paraguay (pa'ra-gwl') 

Paramaribo (p&r'a-mar'I-bo) 
paramos (pa'ra-moz) 

Par and (pa-ra-na') 

Patagonia (p&t'a-go'nl-a) 
patios (pa'tybz) 
peccaries (pbk'a-rlz) 

Pedro Miguel (pa'dro mb-gSl') 
Pernambuco (pSr'nam-boo'kb) 
Peru (pe-roo') 
pesos (pa'sbs) 

Pichincha (pe-chen'cha) 
Pilcomayo (pel'kb-ma'yo) 
pirarucu (pe'ra-roo-koo') 

Pizarro, Francisco 

(p£-thar'ro, fran-ses'ko) 
plaza (pla'za) 

Plaza de Mayo (pla'za da ma'yo) 
Plaza Murilla (pla'za moo-r61'yo) 
poncho (pbn'cho) 
praga (pra'sa) 

Praga da Republica 

(pra'sa da ra-ptib-le'ka) 

Prado (pra'do) 

Punta Arenas (poon'ta a-ra'nas) 

Quichua (ke'chwa) 

Quito (ke'to) 

Recife (ra-se'f6) 

Rimac (re-mak') 

Riobamba (re'6-bam'ba) 

Rio Branco (re'oo brang'kdo) 

Rio de Janeiro 
(re'o da sha-na'ro) 

Rio de la Plata (re'o da la pla'ta) 
Rio Grande do Sul 

(re'o gran'da doo sool') 

Rio Negro (re'o na'gro) 

Rosario (r6-sa'rb-o) 
roto (ro'to) 


Rua 15 de Novembro 
(roo'a da no-vam'bro) 

Salto (sal'to) 

San Martin (san mar-ten') 

San Salvador (san sal'-va-dor') 
Santarem (san'ta-raN') 

Santos (san'toosh) 

Sao Paulo (soun' pou'loo) 
senora (sa-nyo'ra) 
senorita (sa'ny6-re'ta) 

Sorata (so-ra'ta) 
stevedore (ste'v6-dor') 

Sucre (soo'kra) 

Surinam (soo'rl-nam') 

tagua (ta'gwa) 
taqui (tah'ke) 

Telegrafo Geral 

(ta-la-gra'fo ja-ral') 

Tierro del Fuego 
(ty6r' ra dSl fwa'go) 

Tijuca (te-zhoo'ka) 

Titicaca (te'te-ka'ka) 

Tobas (to'bas) 

Todos os Santos 

(to'-dobs oos san'toos) 
tola (to'lah) 
toucan (too-kan') 

Trinidad (tre'ne-fhafh') 
Tumaco (tob-ma'ko) 

Urea (oor'ka) 

Urubamba (oo'roo-bam'ba) 
Uruguay (bo'roo-gwi') 

Valparaiso (val'pa-ra-e'so) 
Venezuela (va'na-swa'la) 
Ver-o-peso (var-ob-pa'sob) 
Villa Concepcibn 

(vel'ya kbn-sSp'syon') 

Yanquis (yang-kez') 
yareta (ya-ra'ta) 
yerbales (yer-ba'las) 
yerba mate (ybr'ba ma'ta) 
yerbateros (ySr-ba-ta'r5s) 























































































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